


Phaze Through Time With Me

by AlienShea



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, Denial, Depression, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Just One Big Dysfunctional Family, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strap In Boys Its Gonna Be A Long One, past trauma, poorly written smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienShea/pseuds/AlienShea
Summary: The entire story of 2doc as told by my headcanons mixed with canon information. It's gonna be a long one, bois. Will continue to update as long as Gorillaz stays active.





	1. Author's Intoduction

Hello, you unfortunate soul who decided to click on my shitty fanfiction! You can call me Shea, and I will be your conductor for this horrible roller coaster of gay emotions and bad character flaws! 

Okay, in all seriousness, I know how much Author Notes suck, I'm a frequent reader on here. But I felt like leaving a little one just in case. You have every right to skip this. 

This is my very first fic! While I've been reading for a long time, I've never felt confident enough to write myself. Being my first fic, it doesn't hurt to expect the worst. But I'm working on it, and I swear my writing will get better with time! I plan for this to be a really long fic, so I've got plenty of time to practice. This will tell the story of 2doc as I've seen it, basically it's gonna be a bunch of headcanons with some facts I get from the canon sprinkled in. I will try to update this every Friday. As of the time I'm writing this, I have seven chapters fully done, so we'll be good for a least two months. If the schedule needs to change, I'll let you know! Also, I appreciate criticism! If you notice any errors, grammatically or canonically, let me know and I'll update ASAP!

And yes, yes, I'm aware 2doc is an emotionally and physically abusive ship. Everyone in the 2doc fandom understands that, and we don't want to cut that part out. It's horrible, but it's the truth. If you feel like anything in the fandom feels familiar in regards to your partner, PLEASE don't hesitate to tell someone. It can be hard to get out of, but you can do it. My inbox on Tumblr is always open if you want to vent to someone.

Anyway, enjoy this trash that I write during late nights. My 2doc Tumblr is phazes-of-2doc, check there for chapter updates and schedule changes, or if you just want to chat! 

Thank you!  
-S


	2. In The Beginning, God Made Gays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legends have to start somewhere, right?
> 
> CW: violence, criminal activity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Comments are appreciated!

You wake up to the sound of your radio/alarm blaring some generic pop song you’ve heard twenty or so times. You groan, smacking the top repeatedly until the horrible noise stops. The sun peeking through the gap in your curtains floods your eyes, jumpstarting a migraine. You blindly reach over to the drawer in your nightstand, prodding until you feel the familiar cylinder of your pill bottle, dry swallowing three of the pills inside. You know you probably don’t need three to kill the migraine, but better safe than sorry, right?

You stare up at the ceiling for a little while, trying to convince yourself to get out of bed. Mondays are always the worse, having to return to the daily grind after a weekend of getting warped and mucking about Crawley with your mates. You know that your father doesn’t approve of the shenanigans you find yourself in, but he has told you multiple times that “You are nineteen, and in control of your own life now”. It doesn't make you feel any better knowing that you’re disappointing him.

Sighing, you force yourself to get up, pulling on the white button up you find by the foot of your bed and sliding on a pair of dark trousers, nearly falling over. You go to the washroom and wash your face in an attempt to make your head stop pounding and your stomach to calm down. The mirror shows that despite your efforts, you definitely look as hungover as you feel.  _Just make it through the day,_ you remind yourself.

In the kitchen, your mum is in front of the cooker, finishing up a nice lunch of beef and noodles with peas. She turns to you as soon as you walk in and gives you one of those smiles that steals all the bad feelings away from you. God, you love your mum.

“Ah! Morning Stu! Did you sleep well?” she says in her usual chirpy voice.

“Well, I got in late, so uh, not really,” you shrug, ignoring the greasy noodles with a scowl and taking a croissant from the box on the table. You pray she doesn't notice the bags under your bloodshot eyes. “Where’s dad?”

She sighs. “He had to leave early. Something about Jonesy needing help with a machine malfunction.”

“Yeah, Jonesy would break the rides,” you chuckle. It wasn't exactly rare that your dad wasn't around in the mornings, but seeing that he has the only car in the family, you always hold out hope that he'll be here. “So, I guess that means I’m walking?”

“I’m afraid so, dear, “ she replies, taking the noodles off the heat and putting them in a container.

You nod. “Well, I guess I better get going, You know how Norm gets when someone is late.” You finish the croissant, tying the laces on your worn out trainers and grabbing your Walkman. “Love you mum. See you tonight.”

You hear her shout a farewell as you step out into the afternoon sun. Crawley normally has a pretty mild summer, but today feels rather hot. You're already starting to get sweat marks on your good white shirt. You put on your headphones and set out on your hour-long walk to work. You let your mind drift away from this particularly boring day. What you won’t give to be away from this town, exploring the world, meeting new people. Maybe even get somewhere with your keyboarding. You aren’t exactly a genius at the keys, but you feel as though you’re fairly good. Your parents seem to think so, at least.

You've been taking the same route for about a year now, so you take the time to greet those you know along the way. Ms Patterson sits on her patio with her little fluffy dog on her lap, as usual. She waves back to you, Bugsy just growls. Animals don't seem to like you, but you make the effort to try anyway. The Beaker twins play catch in their garden. You shout out a hello, ask them how their studies are going. Freddie stays quiet, poor lad is always so nervous to speak to anyone but his brother. Martin tells you to piss off. Lovely boys, they are indeed. Saul Green closes his jewelry shop to go grab some lunch at the little cafe across the street. He gives you a nod and a warming smile. He's been a bit down since his daughter went off to university, but he's trying his best. You can find a lesson in that, you're sure. In the alleyway right before you make your last turn, a couple of hooded figures make a drug trade. You pretend you don't see anything. Across the road, a long-legged redhead in a gorgeous miniskirt gives you a wink. You hope she stops by the store later. 

Finally, you see the familiar sign of Norm’s Organ Emporium. You open the door, hearing the little bell above it ring.

“Mornin’, Norm,” you call out to the stocky man behind the counter.

He stares at you. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Pot. Get back here and start sorting the blues CDs.” He pauses, stepping from behind the counter. “And stop saying 'good morning', it’s one in the afternoon.”

“Yessir,” you utter meekly. You quickly take over his position behind the counter and continue his work. You groan as a pain rips through your skull, regretting ever waking up in the first place. You hope the day will go by fast, at least.

 

 ~~~~~

 

You stare up into the blue sky, taking a long drag from your cigarette. You hold in the toxic smoke while finalizing the details of your perfect plan to success, lovingly nicknamed “Murdoc Niccals's Ultimate Guide to Success, Grand Theft Style”. Yeah, you aren’t the best at code names.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by your buddy Leo.

“Oi man, snap out of it. Are we doing this or what?”

You smirk. “Ah, this one still needs to learn patience, hm? Take it easy lad, we got a lot of places to hit and not much of a plan.” You jump off of the bonnet of the car, taking a small map from your pocket and unrolling it. “So, which of these places should we hit first?” you inquire, pointing to the locations marked with a red X.

He takes a moment before picking one at random. “Um, how about this one?”

You snatch the map away with a grin. “Wrong, I lied, I already got a plan. Get in the fucking car.”

The rest of the crew follows your lead and gets into the Astra (not legally obtained, mind you). You haven't been in Sussex very long, but that doesn't really matter. All you need is a couple more supplies. Then, leg it to London to finally begin your (fourth? twenty-first?) band. The next few hours are spent running all through the county, raiding any store with musical instruments, drug paraphernalia, and baked breads, for nourishment, of course. You head to the last stop of the day. It's a run down music store on the south side of Crawley, nothing much to look at but stashing some serious gear, including some synths you’ve been looking at for a while. You prepare to smash through the window for your grand finale, not really thinking of the consequences. As long as you can get in and out in a jiffy, the police will never find you.

As you hit the kerb, sending the car flying, Harry shouts something at you from the backseat. You catch the words "a guy there". His panicked tone makes your arm hair stick up.

“What?” you shout back before the car makes contact. The car hits the window and lands inside with a thud, and you’re forced into the steering wheel, knocking the wind out of you and the glass from the windscreen giving you cuts all down your arms. You struggle to catch air, attempting to use the techniques you picked up while you were living with your dad, but it's not working this time. The seat is practically crushing you. The last thing you see before you blackout is your “pals” fleeing the scene, and a pool of blood near what appears to be a leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my Tumblr for this fic, phasez-of-2doc.


	3. Legally Screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc faces a possible death sentence in court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote i have no clue how the legal system works i just did a 5 minute google search

Darkness.

Floating, but invisible, like you’re air itself.

Distant beeping, barely there.

A sob. Mum?

You go back under.

 

~~~~~

  
Your nose itches, but the handcuffs behind your back make it impossible to scratch. This pisses you off to no end. If you didn't have these bloody handcuffs, you'd make a break for it, fighting your way to freedom. However, your lawyer hated that idea when you brought it up to her, so all you can do is sit and wait until the judge gives you your sentence, which with the charges of grand theft auto, breaking and entering, reckless endangerment, and attempted involuntary manslaughter (!), you are pretty certain you’re a goner.

“Mr. Niccals, your charges are quite severe. Many people in this courtroom would love to see you either behind bars until you grow old, or sitting in the electric chair.” he says as he glares at you.

_Fuck, fuck, I’m dead, I haven’t even made a will, what the fuck am I going to do? Hannibal better not get any of my shit, I swear to Satan-_

“However,” he continues with a sigh, “Mr. and Mrs. Tusspot seem to be feeling quite charitable, and have offered you a plea deal.”

You perk up. You could make it out of this alive?

“If you agree, you will be sentenced to no jail time, but instead thirty thousand hours of community service, from seven o'clock in the morning to seven o’clock at night, five days a week, while caring for the catatonic Stuart Pot on the weekends for at the least five hours a day. Does the defendant agree to the terms of the plea deal?”

You’re in shock. You get off with absolutely no jail time, but have to do hard labor every day AND watch the kid? This is unfair! How were you supposed to know that he was standing in the exact place he was to be hit with the car? It’s not like you were aiming for him. Besides, you don’t know how to take care of the handicapped, he would’ve been much better off in the care of a professional. You suppose maybe his parents are neglectful. You don’t blame them, you don’t want to take care of the kid either. You would’ve much rather serve jail time than suffer this fate. But you kept your anger silent, and gritted out a “yessir”.

The judge calls the trial closed, and knocks his gavel twice. Everyone starts to get up and leave, and you assume you should follow. One of the guards comes to unlock your handcuffs. You finally take the chance to itch your nose. Your lawyer stands to your side, watching you with disgust. She sighs before reminding you of how many personnel there are, ready to take you down if you make a scene. You flash her a fake smile.

As your lawyer packs her things, you make your way over to Stuart’s parents. You want to get on their good side, hopefully they’ll take pity on you and let you get off from taking care of Stuart. As you approach, the father stares at you like you’re nothing but pure rubbish, which you’re sure you are in his eyes. His mother is silent, leaning against her husband’s shoulder and looking down at the ground.

“So…,” you start, unsure what to say. While you’re perfectly fine with physical confrontation, having to talk to the two people who hate you more than anyone on Earth right now was a little intimidating. “I don’t want to make this any more awkward than it has to be, but I guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you two, so I don’t want to have any bad feelings between us.”

The man you learned is called David nearly jumps at you. “No bad feelings?! You made my son into a zombie! The doctors don’t know if he’ll ever recover! You don’t deserve to make friends with us at all!” he shouts, raising his voice and alerting a nearby officer.

His wife tries desperately to calm him down, placing a hand on his face and stroking his cheek in a soothing way. “Dear, calm down. I don’t believe he meant to hit Stu. Right, Mr. Niccals?”

You clear your throat, very uneasy at David’s hostility. “Uh, yes sir, I had no intention to hit your son,” you state, looking him in the eyes in an attempt to regain dominance. “And please, call me Murdoc. Mr. Niccals just feels too weird, that’s what they call my father after all.” That was a lie, your father was mostly called “The Town Drunk, Sebastian” but you don’t have to admit that to these strangers.

“Of course dear,” Rachel replies, now smiling sadly at you. Satan, she’s too sweet for her own good. Truth is, you don’t care about what happens to the kid. You just don’t want his dad to strangle you while you sleep.

David looks at his wife, then back at you. He gives you a final hard stare, before extending his hand. You go to shake his hand, but he grips your hand hard and pulls you close. “Just know this; if you hurt Stuart any more than you already have, even the tiniest scratch, so help me God, I will find you. Don’t take my wife’s kindness for granted. That’ll be the last mistake of your life.” He lets you go, and turns to leave with Rachel, who has one again resorted to starting at the floor.

You’re stuck there, dumbfounded. It isn’t very often you manage to be intimidated, but David brings out some scary feelings within you. You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts of how many ways he could kill you out of your mind. Slowly, you make your way back to your lawyer. She has just finished a conversation with some of her associates. She then turns to you, glaring.

“Well, this looks like your lucky break, Mr. Niccals. I will be keeping in contact with you.” With that, she motioned for you to follow her out of the courtroom. You did so, trying your best to ignore the cameras and obnoxious reporters yelling questions at you. You get into the car, relieved to finally be going home.

A couple hours later, you unlock the door to your shitty, cheap flat, collapsing on the disgusting couch. You really don’t want to think about waking up at six in the morning, or having to spend your weekends taking care of a guy who isn’t even all there. You sigh, shedding your clothes and throwing a small blanket from the back of the couch on top of you. Right now, you just want to sleep, not even bothering to walk down upstairs to your bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really debated marking them as "Mr. and Mrs. Tusspot" but legally that's their names so what can ya do.
> 
> Tumblr is phasez-of-2doc, follow for updates and shitposts!


	4. Anybody In There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc properly meets his charge for the first time.
> 
> CW: ableist slurs, mild violence

You wake up the Saturday following your trial, still sore and exhausted from the hard labour you’ve done the past week. You roll over onto your back, reaching over and slamming the button on the alarm with your closed fist to stop the shrill beeps coming from it. You stare up at the ceiling, dreading the day ahead of you. You contemplate ditching this life, running away and making a new one, probably in Mexico. You’ve always had a love for the country, and having been there a few times, you can speak broken Spanish. Ultimately, you decide to get up, throwing on a plain brown t-shirt and the same jeans you’ve been wearing for the past few days. It's an important day, the day you meet Stuart Pot, A.K.A the guy you’ll be babysitting for the rest of your (or his) life.

You walk to the bathroom, using the toilet and wetting your hair down in an attempt to look less like an alcoholic and more like an upstanding citizen. It doesn’t work very well, your general aura will never be that of a good person. You just hope Rachel and David won’t pick up on it. You leave the bathroom, grabbing a flask from your end table as you head out the door. You hop in your busted car, lighting a cigarette and taking a swig of stale gin. You cough and groan, starting the car and hitting the gas with more force than you intending to, peeling out of the complex car park.

When you arrive at the Pot household an hour later, you’re already tipsy and irritated, and you haven’t even met the kid yet. You stash the flask in the glove box, finishing your fourth cigarette before shutting off the engine and walking to the front door. It takes a few minutes after you knock for Rachel to open it, and when she does the smell of baked goods and fresh flowers hit your nostrils. It overwhelms you for a moment, since it had been a long time since you’ve smelled something so good. In fact, you can’t really remember the last time you smelled pastries…

She smiles warmly at you, gesturing for you to come inside. You take in the house; it’s cozy, with a neutral colour scheme. You see countless pictures of Stuart’s family and various memorabilia from their lives. It feels…way too normal, domestic. Like a TV family. You think back on your own childhood briefly and quickly push those thoughts away. It makes you sick to your stomach to think about for too long.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Rachel touching your shoulder softly. The sudden contact makes you tense and jump. She retracts her hand quickly, apologizing. “Forgive me.” she looks away again, looking down the hallway. ‘I’ll go get Stuart.”

She leaves your side. You continue to look at all the family pictures on display. The first you see is of David and Rachel on their wedding day. He had a moustache then, and her hair was long, braided and almost to her hips. The one following this is of what you assume is a baby Stuart in his bassinet surrounded by stuffed animals. The next is him as a small child surrounded by his classmates, and you realize he has piercing blue eyes. The next one is strange; the family is on vacation somewhere, you figure by the beach in the background. He looks like he’s in early adolescence, maybe around thirteen. His hair is a bright bluish-purple. You snicker at the idea of dying your hair such a ridiculous colour, and at such a young age. You wonder why his parents let him do that, considering they seem fairly traditional. Below this photo, you see a trophy on the table. Reading closely, it is a school singing competition trophy. Guess the kid has some vocal talent, you assume. The final photo on the wall is at his celebration for finishing secondary school. Curiously, he still has blue hair, although a bit darker than before. 

You don’t have time to focus on this, because at that moment, Rachel comes back down the hall, wheeling your charge into the foyer. You take in his appearance; incredibly tall, lanky, pale, thick eyebrows, and, you note, he still has his hair dyed blue. You tear yourself away from the photos and shuffle over to them. Rachel looks at you with a very serious expression, forcing you to look back at her.

“Now I need to go run some errands, visit my sister, buy groceries, the usual. David won’t be back from the fairgrounds for another few hours, plenty of time for you to get your required five hours before he comes home.” She hesitates before stepping closer, going toe to toe with you. She's shorter than you, but her authoritative stance makes your hair stand up. “Now listen, Murdoc. Stuart is my only child, my only baby. Even though it’s your fault that he’s like this, I’m giving you another chance. Don’t mess this up, or I swear I will make it so you never see the sun again.” She then steps away, beaming at you like nothing ever happened. “Understood?”

You just stare back, open-mouthed. You manage to give her a curt nod. She gathers her purse and heads towards the door. “He needs fed every couple hours, we have a supply of mushed up food in the fridge. Don’t go into my room. And yes, he does wear nappies since he can’t walk to the bathroom, so you’ll have to change those.” She makes it to the door and opens it with a smile. “Our numbers are on the fridge. Call if anything happens.” With that she leaves.

You look back down at the kid, sighing. It’s like you’re actually watching over a baby. He can’t walk or talk and he isn’t exactly conscious, but you suppose being catatonic is better than being in a coma. Or worse. You walk over to him, picking up his frail form from the wheelchair and dumping him onto the couch. Despite his height, he's very light. You sit beside him, turning on the telly and flipping to some random game show. It was mundane, but you suppose that it’s better than your shoddy home without cable. You turn to look at Stuart, fully taking him in for the first time. He looks so...young. Which pisses you off for no reason.

“So….Stuart,” you start, breaking the awkward silence. “Can you hear me in there? Probably not. Well, anyhow, I’m the one, the only, Murdoc Faust Niccals. Pleased to meet you, dullard.” As expected, he doesn’t respond further than a twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

You sigh again. “This is all such bollocks,” you think aloud. “How was I supposed to know you’d be by the window? It ain’t like I aimed for ya head or anything. Wrong place, wrong time is all that was, lad. You believe me right?” He blinks slowly. “Yeah, of course you do! Now if we would only convince your sodding father of that...”

You get up, going to the kitchen, hoping David had a vice in alcohol. You manage to find two cans of beer, deciding they will do. You plop back down on the couch, sipping the poor-tasting alcohol while half focused on the television. It's unbelievably boring, but hey at least it isn't jail or the chair!

A couple hours pass by, and you decide it’s time to feed him. You go back to the fridge, retrieving a small container of what appears to be smashed carrots. Like a baby, you think again. You pull up a chair in front of him, sitting him up. “Time for num nums, Stu,” you coo sarcastically. You half-heartedly force the mush down his throat. At least he has enough brain to swallow on his own. After the deed is done, he is covered in carrots. You stand up, deciding the poor vegetable needs a bath. You walk to the bathroom, half carrying, half dragging Stuart. 

The bath is….awkward at best. Never did you imagine you’d spend your thirties bathing an adult man. Not that you have a problem seeing a man naked; it wouldn’t be the first time. It was just...you had imagined that by now you’d be living easy in some Mexican resort with your incredibly huge rock’n’roll band that you had sold your soul for, drinking all the tequila and banging all the birds you could ever imagine. But no, you were stuck here, bathing mashed carrots off of some sorry sod you had accidentally thrown into the world between living and dead. You are stuck on these thoughts as you throw him onto the couch. He drools like mad all over the throw pillow, and you’re sure Rachel is going to make a mess of it when she gets home. The whole thing makes rage boil inside of you, and you lash out, striking the kid in the chest. He wheezes, but is mostly unresponsive. You hit him again, this time in the shoulder. It feels good to get out this anger. Maybe babysitting someone who can’t fight back will be worth it. You smirk, until you notice the smell, and angrily realize that it's time to change Stuart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough week, man. I almost didn't put this out. But I didn't want to disappoint, so here you go! Tumblr is phasez-of-2doc.


	5. Buzzkill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc finds an unhealthy way to vent.
> 
> CW: ableist slurs, abuse, neglect, implied sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like I know the chapters are real short and not the greatest rn, but the chapter I just finished was 7 pages long so I mean it'll get better once stu's awake

It has been three months since the accident that shattered your hopes and dreams, and honestly, you have never felt better. Despite the countless hours you’ve spent carrying, feeding, changing, and bathing a grown man, you’ve spent many more torturing the little shit, whether it be physically with punches and kicks to the stomach, or verbally, releasing all of the rage you’ve gathered over the week on someone who has no idea it’s even happening. It’s therapeutic, albeit unhealthy. He’s even become a sort of a party show for your mates. They enjoy playing darts with his face or seeing who can get the most involuntary sounds out of him. The best part is, his parents have no clue! Despite their warnings and “watchful eyes”, they haven’t noticed a thing, somehow failing to see how easily he bruises, even agreeing to let you take him to your house on weekends. Of course, you had lied, saying it was easier than having to drive back and forth every night in a busted up vehicle. In all honesty, you just need to be able to throw things without worrying about cleaning up the mess on Rachel’s carpet.

As it seems, this Saturday night is no different. You have a fairly decent amount of people in your shabby flat, and everyone seems to be having a good time. Plenty of booze, plenty of music. And your shining star, the comatose bluebell who’s acting as a ring toss in the corner. You check to make sure he isn’t dead, then slip into your bedroom with an absolute beaut, a tall, long-legged, big-breasted brunette by the name of….uh...well, that doesn't matter. All that matters right now is the way she nips and kisses every inch on your torso, sliding down onto her knees. She looks up at you, biting her lip, and as she goes to undo your fly….there’s a knock on your door.

You groan loudly. “Can it wait a moment mate? I’m busy here, y’know!” you shout. When nobody answers, you walk to the door, apologizing to whatever her name is, who crosses her arms in a way that fully shows how pissed off she is. You open to the lovely sight of a man in blue, asking if you’re the host of this party. You sigh, knowing your night has been ruined.

 

 ~~~~~

 

“Yeah, sorry for the noise, lads! Have a good night!” you yell to the officers as cheery as you can fake, watching them pull away from the car park. When you’re certain they’ve gone, you slam the door as hard as possible, hoping your neighbors can hear your anger at them for ruining a good time. They could’ve came if they asked nicely!

You stomp to your kitchen, pulling out your favourite bottle of vodka from the freezer. You walk through piles of trash left by your guests unbothered, you’ll just deal with it later. You sit (fall) onto the couch, taking long drinks as you go. You notice Stuart sitting on the opposite side, drool running down his shirt and a distinct smell of urine coming from this direction. Anger flares in you as you kick his shin as hard as your can, nearly breaking the poor thing.

“Why can’t I fucking have one good night? You’ve already ruined my life, I don’t need your bloody bodily functions making it worse!” you shout at him, delivering a harsh slap to his cheek. “I can’t even get laid anymore! If it weren’t for you, I’d be doing this every fucking night instead of having to save my energy for the weekends. You sit there in your piss and think about what you’ve done!” You sound like an angry pet owner, but you were too furious to care.

After a couple more hours of drinking, and half the bottle gone, your anger dissipates, and replaced with another feeling you can’t explain and don’t want to know. Sighing, you take pity on the wet and shivering boy beside you, changing his nappy the best you can while seeing double. You toss it in the direction of the bin, probably missing it by a few centimeters. You'll deal with it later. After the dirty deed is done, you lay him down in your bed while you change out of your booze-soaked clothes, setting the half empty bottle of vodka down on the end table. You lie next to him, staring into his black eyeball.

“You know Stu,” you start, “I don’t mean to be so...uh...nasty to you all the time. I-I’m just fucked up a little bit is all. You’re not so bad of a guy.” You pause, making sure there’s no way he can actually hear you. “It’s not your fault you’re a damn vegetable, that-that’s my….” you trail off. You can’t help but to reach out and touch his hair, twirling a strand around your finger. Despite everything that happened to him that night, his hair is still the softest thing you’ve ever felt. “So, real blue hair huh? Not dyed….strange. You’re a strange kid, Stu.” You burst into a fit of drunken giggles. “It’s…quite beautiful though. Blue is my favourite colour.” You laugh again, and suddenly he jerks, most likely involuntarily but it’s good enough for you to panic, punching him in the cheek. “Don’t go thinking I’m soft! And not for you especially!” When he doesn’t respond, you sigh, running your hand through his hair again. So soft, so soothing. “If you think I’m horrible, you should’ve seen what my dear old dad was like! Couldn’t even bloody sneeze without getting a good bop upside the head. Ah, what a rotten cunt he was.... Bet he’d be real proud of me now, yeah? Spending my weekdays picking up trash off the side of the freeway and reading to old folk, spending my weekends with all my attention devoted to someone who can’t even wipe his own arse.” You chuckle humourlessly, and swallow the lump that’s been forming in your throat while you were talking. “I could’ve been famous, Stu. Still could be, if I wasn’t here, talking to a sack of potatoes. Ah...I know that’s my fault. ‘I’m in charge of my own destiny’ and all that shite.” You retract your hand, putting it to your forehead in an attempt to keep the room from spinning. It doesn’t help. You can feel the blackout approaching. You groan, pulling the blanket over Stuart and yourself.

“Goodnight Stu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote what the FUCK is happening in the lore rn like??? wig snatched, fully shooketh, jamie mister you have some EXPLAINING TO DO
> 
> Tumblr is phasez-of-2doc!


	6. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, a road trip can change your future.
> 
> CW: neglect, mild gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so listen I know it isn't friday but I felt bad bout how short the last chapter was and I'm getting excited about this fic so here you go!

“Have him home by seven, please! His nan is visiting and she would love to see him,” Rachel chirped.

“Of course, Mrs. Pot. Who could miss a nan visit!” You laughed as sweetly as could while you wheel Stuart out of his house. “I’ll be back by suppertime!” You load him into the car, waving to the Pots as you pull out of their drive and speed down the street. As soon as they are out of sight, you turned to Stuart, your smile turning devious.

“Alright Stu, my boy! Are you ready for something special!” You chuckle darkly as you skid around a corner. “One year, pal! We’ve been ‘best mates’ for a year! Ain’t that something? And I’m gonna do something special for you,” you say, as you pull up to your buddy Billy’s house, the bloke already outside and running for the car. As he slides in the front seat, you look back at Stuart, his good eye staring off into the distance and drool leaking from his mouth. “We’re going on a trip! To Nottingham!”

You speed across England, blatantly ignoring the road laws. You and Billy rock out to tunes, checking every now and then to see if Stuart can hear it. As usual, he can’t. After a couple of hours, here you are; Nottingham! You’d spend a couple of years here after you first left home. It’s a great place for homeless runaways such as you. You cruise around town for a while, honking at constables and wooing the ladies. You park at Tesco, chatting it up with a couple of birds who look like they’ve been around but hey, who are you to complain?

“So, why are ya all the way here in Nottingham? ‘S a long way from Crawley,” one of them drawls. You’ve forgot her name.

You smile sweetly to her. “We just wanted to uh...have some fun today, is all. Gone on a little road trip, yeah?”

“Well we could show you around town later...if you’d like,” she said, honey dripping from her voice, eyelids drooping low.

You grin back at her. “Sorry, love, I’ve got to be in Crawley by seven, kind of a, uh, family matter, you see.” Your voice dips an octave. “But, if I’m ever back in town, I’d love to visit you. How about a number?”

She giggles, looking at her friends. “Shall we give him our numbers, ladies?”

Her shorter friend replies, “I don’t know, these boys don’t seem cool enough for us.”

“Cool, eh?’ you ask. “Well, will some car stunts woo ya?”

The girls reply in cheers. You look over at Billy, who gives you a thumbs up. You then look back at the dullard. “Buckled up, buttercup!” you yell sarcastically at him. Then, laughing maniacally, you pull away from the girls, squealing your tires. You do figure-eights, loop-de-loops, donuts, pretty much anything you could imagine. You look towards the girls, where you see that one of them has lifted up her shirt, and Satan, she’s got amazing knockers!

You’re so captivated by those knockers, in fact, that you don’t see the kerb in front of you. You hit it full force, at least 80 mph, sending the car tipping forward. You barely register Stuart flying out of the windscreen before your car flips completely over.

You groan, pulling yourself out of the window of the totaled vehicle. The impact totally knocked the wind out of you. You lie on your back, wheezing in pain. Suddenly, you remember the other passengers. You look back into the car, not seeing the other boys. You check the area, spotting Billy standing up, surrounded by the girls who are cooing and tending to his (non serious) injuries. You turn the other way, spotting the kid lying face down about 15 meters away. He has a dark-looking pool of blood around him and you start to panic.

_“Fuck, I killed him, that’s the end for me, I’m gonna get the fucking chair, Satan….”_

And then, his hands twitch. It’s the most movement you’ve seen from him. At least he's still alive. But he doesn’t stop there. The hand moves to under him, and he starts moving his knees. Slowly, but very surely, he uses his hands to prop himself up, taking a small break every now and then. In one swift motion, he stands upright fully. He brings one of his hands to his blood-soaked face, starting slightly when he pulls it back to reveal how much blood he’s losing. Slowly, he turns around, fully facing you. You gasp when you see his face.

It takes your breath away.

 

~~~~~

 

The first thing you feel is a dull ache coming from somewhere, but you’re unsure of where. Everything feels….weird. Like you’re swimming underwater. You know you should open your eyes but you don’t really want to. It was nicer in the darkness, soothing.

But now, the pain is getting worse, so you know you HAVE to open your eyes.

When you do, the daylight is blinding. That’s not a metaphor, actually blinding, you can’t see anything other than whiteness. You also notice the hard and bumpy surface beneath you. As your eyesight becomes clearer, you realize that you’re facedown on asphalt somewhere, which was strange, as you don’t recall lying on the ground. When your eyes adjust to the light, you notice that there’s a dark shadow around the corners of your vision, sort of like a black veil.

You decide to figure out what’s going on, and you use your hands to prop yourself up, going as slow as possible since your head is starting to feel like a jackhammer has been banging against it. When you manage to stand up fully, you realize you’re in a Tesco parking lot. Confused, you try to make sense of what’s happened. You were at your shift at Norm’s staring off into space, thinking about what you were going to have for dinner. Then...the sound of glass breaking, and now you’re here. You feel something warm slide down your face, so you wipe at it. When you pull your hand back, you notice that it’s covered in blood. You jump, panicking. Looking down, you see a wide pool of blood below you and all over the front of your shirt. Your shirt _…This isn’t the same shirt I was just wearing._.

Slowly, you turn around trying to figure out of your surroundings. You see a small crowd of people, one of them on the phone, speaking frantically. Then you see it….a car. It’s flipped completely over, completely totaled. You notice a man beside the driver door. He has a mop of black hair with a long fringe that reaches his eyes. He’s bleeding too, you notice. Was there an accident? You can’t remember. He is staring back you in a sort of transfixed way. His mouth is gaped open, and his eyes are opened wide.

He looks almost scared.

You try to say something, maybe ask what happened, but nothing comes out of your mouth other than a choked noise. It feels like your throat has tightened up completely, sorta like how it felt when you were a kid and had strep throat, when you couldn’t talk for a week. You try to take a step toward him, but the moment you lift up your foot, you fall straight onto your torso, hitting your chest hard on the ground below.

It took your breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole "took your breath away" thing was super cheesy and that was my goal
> 
> Tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


	7. The Start Of Something Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and 2D properly meet for the first time.
> 
> CW: panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will get more interesting from here on out now that I can throw more dialogue in there lmao

You notice the beeping first. Then, when you manage to open your eyes, you see that you’re in a hospital cot, scratchy covers and all. You’d almost forgotten what being in the hospital felt like; ever since your incident with the tree when you were younger, you were in and out of the A&E with your awful migraines. It had started to get better, but obviously something's wrong, since you're back.

 

You notice that your vision has darkened, more around the edges than the middle. You’re thinking that maybe a migraine got so awful it mucked it up a little, and that the doctors would fix it soon. You can’t help but feel like something is off, since you have no memory of collapsing.

 

The beeping is started to make your head pound. Or, has it been hurting the whole time…?

 

You turn your head to the side, noticing your mum reading a book. “Mum?” you croak out brokenly. Your voice sounds horrible! How long have you been unconscious?

 

She snaps her head up quickly, tears already forming in her eyes. “Stuart? Oh, God my baby!” She bolts up, throwing the book aside and hugging you as hard as she can without harming you or ripping out your IV.

 

You hesitate before awkwardly rubbing her back like she used to when you cried on her shoulder as a kid. “Yeah mum, it’s me. Uh, what’s going on?”

 

She pulls back and tries to look into your eyes, but something makes her flinch and look down. “Stu, sweetheart, there isn’t an easy way to say this but you’ve been in an accident. A car accident….well, actually two of them.”

 

You widen your eyes, already starting to shake. _A car accident? How bad could it have been?_

 

She gauges your shocked expression. “Baby, there was some...damage.”

 

 _Damage?_ Other than the pounding of your skull and the fog that's surrounding your brain, you feel alright...

 

“Whenever you’re ready, we can show you.”

 

 _Show me?!_ You can’t stop shaking at the thought of what she has to show you.

 

“Wh-What’s damaged, mum? What’s wrong with me?” It is right then that you notice something odd. You can’t feel your lip hit your top teeth when you make “th” sounds. Cautiously, you prod the top of your mouth with your tongue, and it almost makes you gag when you feel gauze instead of your front teeth. “Mum….where are my teeth?” you ask, breathing heavily to subdue the panic attack.

 

She looks at you with a heartbreaking gaze. “Stuart, there was some damage,” she repeats. “Your front teeth were knocked out and your eyes….your eyes…”

 

You sit up in bed fully, ignoring the pain in your head. “What about my eyes?” you ask quietly. You think you might cry.

 

She doesn’t saying anything, stepping away from the bed disconnecting your IV walker from the wall. She then holds her hand out towards you, offering it. You attempt to get out of bed, but you find that your legs won’t move right. They barely support your weight, and you mostly lean against your mum. _What’s wrong with my legs?!_

 

“Careful, baby. Your legs are pretty much jelly after not using them for a year.”

 

You stop abruptly, turning to look at her. She keeps her head down. _A year? I was out for a whole year?_ Your head is spinning and you’re worried you might pass out. You lean against her more.

 

She supports your weight easily, given how light you are on account of not eating much for a year (!). She guides you to the washroom, waiting until you’re fully in front of the mirror.

 

“Are you sure you want to see this now, love?” she asks timidly.

 

“Yeah, I think I need to,” you reply, taking a deep, shaky breath.

 

She hesitates, but eventually flips the switch. It blinds you for a moment, but when your vision adjusts, you’re shocked by what you see. Your eyes are pitch black. No wait, in the light, they’re a really dark red.

 

**_Blood._ **

 

You make a choked sound somewhere between a gasp and a cry, nearly collapsing at the sight. “T-t-t-turn it off!” you scream, and your mother instantly flips the switch again, rushing to your side and rubbing your back to calm you down. You can’t believe this. Your teeth and your eyes are gone; you look like a freak! You can hear blood rushing in your ears as your breathing quickens even more. You know you need to calm down, but this is all just too much.

 

“Mum…,” you started, “Wh-what h-h-happened to me?” You're shaking too hard to speak correctly.

 

“Sweetie, I told you, you were in two car accidents. The first one put you in the coma and the second one did….this.”

 

You hear what she’s saying but you can’t make sense of it. There’s no way you missed a whole year of your life, no way! You close your eyes tight and squeeze your temples with your hands, trying to rid the dizziness. You hear your mum shouting something but you can’t make it out. It sounds like she’s underwater.

 

Your breathing is getting quicker, quicker, quicker. Your head still spins. You feel yourself falling down.

 

Then, nothing.

~~~~~

You stare out of the window, looking out at the city lights. You scoop another spoonful of plain mashed potatoes into your mouth, chewing as slowly and carefully as you can. The hospital food you receive has to be soft so you don’t hurt your healing gums, but you hate soft textures. Makes you feel like an old man. They told you that it’d only be a couple more weeks, then you could eat whatever you wanted, but a fortnight feels too long to be able to enjoy something as simple as eating again. You still have to be monitored for a couple days due to your concussion, but on Wednesday, you should be all clear to return home.

 

In the week you’ve been admitted, you’ve avoided mirrors. Sometimes, you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window or on the metal surfaces around the room, but you force yourself to look away, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as possible. While you have to admit you look kind of cool, like a zombie, you can't stand the thought that the person staring back at you **is**  you. It makes your brain even fuzzier than it already is, replacing any thoughts you might’ve had with static.

 

Your mother had told you about what happened, that a year ago, a man named Murdoc lost control of his brakes, slamming into Norm’s and hitting you, fracturing one of your eyes and rattling your brain up, basically turning you into a vegetable. Then, last week, he crashed again while on a road trip, catapulting you through the windscreen. You landed face first, fracturing the other eye and, by some higher power, waking you up. Apparently, you even stood up. It feels weird not being able to remember a thing of it. The only reason your parents didn’t press charges was because you were awake, talking and walking all on your own. You don't want them to press charges anyway. You won't say it to them, but you think that man saved your life. Sure, he ruined it to begin with, but accidents happen, right?

 

Just as you set your bowl on the table beside you, you hear a cough at the door. You see your nurse, Hannah. She’s an overly-sweet elderly lady, probably your favourite nurse here.

 

“Hello, Mr. Pot, doing well this evening?” she chirps cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, yeah, doing fine,” you reply, faking a smile.

 

She smiles back at you, clearly not believing you. “Well, you’ve got a visitor.”

 

She steps back to reveal a man with tanned skin, a mop of black hair with a heavy fringe, dark, mismatched eyes, and bandaged arms. Weird, you've never seen someone with a red eye before. Well, you suppose you've never seen anyone with black eyes either. You wonder who he might be for a moment, before realizing he fits the description of Murdoc your mum gave you. He steps into the room and the nurse leaves you two to talk, though you assume with your past that help isn’t too far away.

 

He shuffles awkwardly to the chair beside your bed, sitting down with a slump. He runs a hand through his hair, seemingly unsure of what to say. He takes in a deep breath, turning to look you in the eyes abruptly. The first person to actually do so. “Alright, let’s get on with it then. I’ll try to make this as least awkward as possible.” He thrusts his hand towards you. “I’m Murdoc Niccals, aspiring musician and all around badass. It’s nice to finally meet my charge.”

 

You look at him, slowly extending your hand and taking his, letting him take the lead with the handshake. His hand is cracked and calloused. You clear your throat. “Um, I’m Stuart Pot. Nice to meet you?”

 

He sighs and looks away, running his hand through his hair again. Must be a nervous tick. You have quite a few yourself.

 

“Look Stuart, I know what you must think of me. That I’m a horrible, nasty person, that I deserve life, or the chair, that-”

 

“No!” you interrupt, embarrassed that your voice sounds squeakier than usual. “I-I don’t think that at all!” He looks at you, surprised and relieved. “Actually, I wanted to thank you,” you continue. You look down at your hands, picking the skin off your fingers. “Without you, I wouldn’t be awake right now. I would have spent the rest of my life like a potato.”

 

He chuckles. “What?!” he says through his laugh.

 

You start to laugh back. “You know, a vegetable.”

 

He laughs a little more. “Potatoes are tubers, not vegetables.” He chuckles again, then shifts back into a dark mood. “Yeah well, it was pretty fucked of me anyway.”

 

You look back out of the window, the sun was starting to set, making the skyline look absolutely breathtaking. You lean back against the pillow, enjoying the view, forgetting Murdoc was even there until he says, “Hey Stuart…”

 

You turn back towards him. “I have a question. How in the hell did you get a singing trophy with a voice like that?’’

 

You blush a little. “You saw that?” You chuckle softly. “Yeah I get that a lot. You should have seen when I gave my ‘thank you’ speech, the audience thought I was lip syncing.” You’ve been told your whole life your voice was annoying, unusually high and wavering. It bothers you sometimes, but you like to sing. Everyone likes your singing voice.

 

Murdoc leans towards you. “Can I hear it?”

 

Your blush darkens. “A-ah, I don’t think you’d want to. A-after all, I haven’t used my voice in over a year, it probably sounds terrible…”

 

You can see him roll his eyes at you. “Oh, come on mate, my voice is rubbish, I'm not the kind to judge you.”

 

You turn back towards the window. “O-okay, uh, what do you want to hear?”

 

“Anything you know,” he replies.

 

You think for a minute. You decide to sing something he might know as well. Taking a deep breath, you sing the first verse of “Don’t You Want Me” by The Human League. Of course, with it being your favourite band, you know the words by heart. You could feel your voice cracking from disuse, but it feels so good to sing again. Even though you never really feel confident when you sing, it feels nice to get lost in the moment and the music and just _feel_ the lyrics.

 

_It’s much too late to find,_

_You think you’ve changed your mind,_

_You’d better change it back or we will both be sorry…_

 

You’re so caught up in the moment that you forget Murdoc is even there. You whip your head back towards him. He is sitting there, mouth open, face unreadable. You start to shake again as your feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

 

“Sorry, I told you it wouldn’t be-”

 

“Stuart, will you be the frontman of my band?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr for this fic is phasez-of-2doc, follow for updates and shitposts. I post art sometimes too but it's bloody awful lol
> 
> Thanks for your support!!! <3


	8. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make plans for the future.
> 
> CW: mild verbal abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M LATE! I fucked up my finger at work the other day and it's hard to type without your pointer. Also been hella busy with Inktober and tbh this slipped my mind oof

“Do you need help walking to your room, sweetheart?”

 

“No, Mum, I think I can do it.”

 

You let out an exasperated groan. Ever since the second accident, she’s been watching your every movement, making sure you aren’t going to slip back into your coma. It was nice at first, but after the tenth time of being jolted out of sleep, you’re starting to feel a bit run down.

 

You walk down the hallway and open the door of your bedroom. It is just as you remember, although cleaner. You run your hand along the wall, feeling the crack right above your light switch. You set your bag from the hospital with some clothes and your pills in it beside your desk, and lie down on the bed. You stare up at the ceiling while running your hands along your duvet. After staying so long in the hospital, it feels so nice to be lying in your own bed, staring at your own, boring ceiling, with the same horrible sunlight filtering through your window.

 

Well, maybe that isn’t so nice. You take two of your codeine pills, killing the migraine you feel forming. While you were in the hospital, you weren’t allowed more than one dose of Demerol every eight hours, which was definitely not what you were used to, causing you to spend at least half your day with the room light off. The doctors wanted to make sure you wouldn’t “form a habit”, but that’s just bollocks.  _ Why would I? _

 

“Stu! Murdoc is outside!” you hear your mother call from the kitchen.

 

You stand up, a bit too fast in fact, and hold yourself steady on the doorway until the room stops spinning. After you initially refused Murdoc’s offer, he kept coming back for the next few days, chatting about how horrible the food was and pestering you to join his band, you finally agreed to visit his house to discuss it after you were released. Although, now that the day is here, you just want to crawl under your covers and take a long nap.

 

You father is sitting on the loveseat, flipping through channels when you walk past. As your hand touches the doorknob, he clears his throat, a clear sign that he wants to have a word before you leave. You turn to him, head hung.

 

“Listen, son, I know that you and your mother have clearly forgotten about all the mess that  _ criminal _   has given you, but I sure haven't. I wouldn't trust him, Stuart. I don't think I want you hanging around him.”

 

Your mum comes into the front hall. “David, stop that nonsense. He’s not a criminal, he saved our son. Without him, Stu wouldn’t be standing right there in front of you!”

 

“Our son would’ve been normal if they never met!”

 

You gasp but don’t look up. He’s right, you aren’t normal. You’re a freak.

 

“David,” Mum hisses, “Don’t you dare speak about our son that way.” You glance at her.

 

Your father looks at her with a scorned expression, standing up and quickly walking to the bedroom they share. Mum looks at you before turning and following him. 

 

“Be safe, hun, we love you!” she calls before disappearing behind the doorway.

 

You look back down, feeling guilty that you’ve caused your parents to fight. You always hated making your dad angry, although usually it wasn’t your fault. You debate forgetting about Murdoc and walking back into your room, taking your nap and making your dad happy for once. 

 

But where was the fun in that? You’re sick of doing nothing day after day. You want excitement. You hear a car horn, and make a sudden decision you’d probably regret.

 

~~~~~

 

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Black Sabbath song that’s playing on the radio. You keep checking the front door, hoping to spot the familiar flash of blue would come bounding out, keeping his promise to meet you. You honk again, getting jittery that he isn’t out yet. Just as you’re about to throw the car in reverse, he steps outside, waving. He hops in enthusiastically, giving you a dopey smile.

 

“You seem rather cheerful for someone who just spent a year unconscious,” you comment, starting the car and backing up.

 

He smiles wider. “Yeah, you’d think so, but I’m feeling pretty glad right now.”

 

“Any special reason?”

 

“I just rebelled against my dad.”

 

You grin. “It seems I’m wearing off on you already.”

 

The ride to your flat is fairly silent, save the one time Stuart asks, “Can we change this? I’m not a big fan of metal.” to which you reply, “Fuck off, it’s my car.” You also learn during this time that he has an annoying habit of “air drumming”. All in good fun, you suppose.

 

You notice him fidgeting and biting his lip with what teeth he has left. You can’t blame him for being nervous in a car, let alone be in a car with you. It hits you just how trusting he is, sacrificing his loyalty to his parents and his personal traumas to keep his promise that you basically forced him into. It makes your stomach hurt, but not at all in a bad way.

 

You arrive at the building and walk inside. 

 

“Welcome to  _ mi casa _ !” you shout as you open the door to your flat. He steps in, obviously unimpressed by the dirtiness of it. You hadn’t bothered to clean.

 

“It’s...nice,” he lies.

 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it’s a mess. Just been used to living alone, I guess."

 

He makes a quiet apology, wandering around the front room. He walks over to the settee, sitting down in a spot where there isn’t trash or dirty laundry.  You snicker at him.

 

“You don’t have to sit in here, let’s go to the bedroom. I promise it’s much cleaner.”

 

He follows your lead upstairs to your room. While it's true that your bedroom is the cleanest room in the house, it isn't spotless by any means. He doesn’t seem to mind, however, and he sits on the end of your bed. You pull out two fags, offering one to him, which he accepts gratefully. He had admitted that he smokes while you were chatting in the hospital, but he made you promise him you wouldn’t tell his parents. Kind of silly, but you could do that, at least.

 

“So, um,” he starts after taking what was probably his first drag off a cigarette in over a year, “I guess we’re really starting a band.” 

 

“Well of course! With my raw, natural talent and your voice, we’ll take over the world!”

 

He chuckles. “That makes you sound like a super villain.”

 

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a nerd, Stuart.” Walking over to the bed, you sit down next to him. “Actually, that reminds me. We HAVE to change your name.”

 

He looks puzzled. “What’s wrong with my name?” he asks, sounding mildly offended.

 

“It’s not, uh, you know,  _ rock’n’roll  _ enough.” At his blank stare, you explain, “Just think of it.” You jump up, snuffing the fag on the end table. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” you start, imitating an announcer, “Introducing the best duo to ever hit your pathetic eardrums, Murdoc Faust Niccals and!” At this you lean in really close to his face, whispering, “Stuart Harold Pot.”

 

He giggles at your little show. “Yeah I see what you mean, I guess. Did you have anything in mind?”

 

You plop back down on the bed. “Actually, yeah. What do you think about Two-Dents?”

 

“Two-Dents?” he asks, confused.

 

“Yeah, you know, for the dents in your face.”

 

He looks down. “Murdoc, I don’t really want to draw more attention to what happened to my face.” He stands up suddenly, setting the cigarette down in one of your many ashtrays. “This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have agreed.”

 

You bolt up, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Hey, hey, don’t make such rash decisions. I promise ya, we’re gonna be huge!”

 

He looks you in the eye, you assume by the faint red pupil you can make out in the darkness. “Murdoc, look at me. No one is going to see some freak. They’re probably just going to laugh at me, or-or scream.”

 

He looks back down and you swear you can hear him sniffle. Emotions weren’t really your forte, but you  _ needed  _ him to take this band off the ground. You slide your hand around his shoulders and give him a small squeeze. “Stuart, come with me,” you say as you walk the both of you to your mirror. He doesn’t look up, so you grab his chin and force it up. “Look at yourself.”

 

It takes a minute but eventually he looks at himself proper. He squints, with a clear look of disgust on his face. “I’ve already seen myself plenty of times, Murdoc. It doesn’t get any easier.”

 

“Ah, but now you have my wisdom. Do you wanna know what I think of ya?” He looks over at you, eyes wet with tears he hasn’t let fall yet. “I think you look fucking amazing. I think you look like some sort of weird rock god. And I guarantee you our fans would think so too.”

 

He smiles as a few tears roll down his flushed cheeks. He looks back the at mirror, this time making full eye contact with himself. “You really think that?” he asks quietly.

 

You let out a hearty laugh and slap his back. “Of course I do! Otherwise I wouldn’t ask ya to be my singer!”

 

He laughs, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I guess I do look kind of wicked, huh?”

 

“Like a total badass!” you agree. You wasn’t sure if you meant all that you said, but you can’t convince him to join otherwise. “So, are you on board...Two-Dents?”

 

He smiles at you, nodding. “Yeah, I guess so. Actually, I like the name. It does sound quite ‘rock’n’roll’.”

 

“Great! Now, let’s talk about music styles…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this has been my least favourite chapter that I've written so far, just seems out of character and rambling but hey it's the best I could come up with. 
> 
> Tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


	9. We're Up All Night For Good Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys decide to go out partying for the first time together.
> 
> CW: alcohol, homophobic slurs, vomiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are such disaster gays, Jesus.
> 
> TW for homophobic slurs and vomiting

"No, no, no! I will  _ not  _ be in a pop band!” Murdoc shrieks from the other side of the bed.

 

“I never said that! I just said we should add a keyboard solo, is all,” you defend.

 

You’ve been spending the better part of the past two weeks at Murdoc’s place, creating tunes and smoking your lungs into oblivion. Honestly, you’ve probably spent more time here than your own house. You parents had been fighting more, so it was nice to have a place to just relax, even if it smells like mildew and is in a horrible neighbourhood. You haven’t hung out with your old friends, either. They’ve seemed to have forgotten about you after your accident, which you try not to think about, but it's nice that you have Murdoc to talk to. The two of you haven’t made much progress in terms of making the band, but you’ve gotten the outline for a song done, at least. You both do agree that you need to find at least a drummer and a guitarist, but in terms of finding those people, you’ve had no luck.

 

You rub your eyes, sighing. “Look, Murdoc, I’m a keyboardist more than a singer, so I just know that we should have at least one!” You’ve been going back and forth about this for the past hour. 

 

He takes a drag off his cigarette, scoffing. “Yeah, if you want a weak song.”

 

You frown at him. “No need to be rude, Murdoc.”

 

He chuckles. “Look, 2D,” he says, using the nickname of your nickname. “I’m just not a keyboard kind of guy. Maybe when we get the band together and start practising, you can try to change my mind, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, speaking of which, when is that happening? We haven’t even tried to find someone!”

 

“Hey, I’m working on it! Harder than you think it’d be, y’know.” He puts his fag out in the ashtray on the floor by the bed. “This is fucking stressful, you up for some fun tonight?”

 

You raise an eyebrow, blushing slightly. “What kind of fun?”

 

“Let’s go to a pub! Get sloshed! You up for it?”

 

Of course you’d love to get drunk again. After all, it’s been over a year since the last time you had a taste of alcohol. But the idea of going to a pub, a public place where your strange looks will be out on display, is making your stomach twist. 

 

Right when you’re about to suggest just drinking alone, you look up to see Murdoc with the most excited face you’ve ever seen on someone his age, like a kid who just discovered the neatest looking bug in the schoolyard. You have no choice but to agree.

 

He grins and stands up. “Great! This’ll be fun, just promise to keep up with me, yeah?”

 

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, well, remember that I haven’t drank in a year.”

 

“Oh right, so you’ll be a lightweight, huh?” It almost sounds like he’s mocking you.

 

You get flustered. “No! I’ll show you who’s a lightweight.”

 

He laughs and walks over to his cupboard, avoiding your Casio laying on the floor. “Are you going out in that, or do you wanna borrow something that might actually make you look like an adult?”

 

“I don’t think I look like a kid…” you say, looking down at your blue and red striped polo. Eh, maybe he has a point.

 

You turn to him to ask for a shirt when you notice he’s now shirtless. Your eyes linger a little too long on his tattoos and back muscles. “If you say so, Dents, just don’t expect to get laid tonight,” he says while he’s skimming for the right outfit. You quickly look away, trying to ignore the burn on your cheeks. 

 

You shake away those thoughts, forgetting to ask for the top and instead reply, “Not aiming for it.”

 

“Aw, come now, you’re not looking for a little action after being in a coma for a year? Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

 

You look back up at him, luckily he’s wearing one of his plain, ripped shirts this time. “Nah, not a virgin. Just...not up to it tonight.”

 

He tuts. “You have your priorities out of order, mate. Let’s see if we can find you a nice bird, hm?”

 

You frown, knowing that he’s going to ignore your wishes anyway, so you just stay silent. 

 

You both get ready and get in his busted vehicle. You turn to Murdoc, trying to yell over the music. “You know a place?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got a few. When you’re an alcoholic, you find your favourite places fast.”

 

“Don’t call yourself an alcoholic, that’s awful…”

 

He shrugs. “At least I can admit it.”

 

You suppose that’s fair. 

 

You try to ignore your nervousness before you reach the pub. You think Murdoc can sense your anxiety, because he looks at you and says, “Hey, mate, don’t worry. In a dark pub, people won’t be focused on your eyes. Either way, you look fantastic, so let’s just have a good night, yeah?”

 

You smile and hope he can’t see the blush on your face. You don’t know why his compliments make you feel so out of sorts. He’s just saying it to be nice, right?

 

You arrive at the place Murdoc picked and….it’s kind of a dump. The neon sign has a few letters burnt out, the walls look like they might collapse, and you’re pretty sure you just witnessed a drug deal happen around the side. You grip the front of your shirt and twist the fabric around, mimicking the feeling burning in your stomach right now. You’re not even inside and you already regret agreeing. Murdoc, on the other hand, seems to be ignoring your visible anxiety attack as he heads straight to the door, holding it open and waiting for you. He gestures for you to follow, and somehow you push away your thoughts and join him inside.

 

The inside isn’t much better than the outside. There are a few booths along the outer wall, with tables in the middle and a bar in the very back of the building. A bunch of random sports memorabilia litter the walls, along with some torn wallpaper. There’s not a lot of people, but  most of them seem to already be fairly drunk, despite the fact that it’s only 7:30. As Murdoc said before, it was dark enough to have trouble seeing, so you’re glad no one can see the truth about your eyes.

 

“Go sit in a booth, I can get the drinks. What do you want?” Murdoc offers.

 

“Uh, a rum and coke is fine, thank you.”

 

He gives you a nod and wanders to the bar. You take a seat in a back corner booth, far enough away from the other patrons. You wring your hands together, a nervous habit you’ve developed. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a couple of men staring at you from 3 booths away.You can’t tell if their gazes are flirtatious or hateful. You lower your head and pray Murdoc comes back soon.

 

Speaking of the devil, Murdoc comes back with your drink. It looks like he just bought a whole bottle of whiskey for himself. You have no clue how he got the money for that.

 

He pours his glass and raises it to you. “To new beginnings!”

 

You giggle and raise yours, clinking the glasses. He drinks his all at once, and you take it a bit easy. You’re sure your tolerance is low after not drinking for so long. However, as the night goes by, you give up drinking slow and end up tossing back shot after shot of whatever horrible whiskey Murdoc bought. A couple hours into the night, you’re having as much trouble walking as you are seeing, but you don’t really mind.

 

~~~~~

 

It has been a while since you’ve enjoyed a night out like this. Sure, you’ve thrown a couple more parties since Dents got out of the hospital, but without the infamous “who can make the most bruises on the vegetable” game, not as many people show up. So, you usually drink alone once 2D goes home, which is just boring. 

 

Now, though, the two of you are stumbling along the road from the pub, singing bad songs too loudly and sharing fags. You’ve abandoned your plan of finding someone to bring home, deciding it’s too much of a hassle for tonight. You also learned that 2D is a clingy drunk, and he’s been hanging on your shoulder this whole time. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to fall.

 

“No, no, buddy, I-I’m telling ya, we’re gonna be huge!” you slur as you narrowly miss a pothole. 

 

He lets out a shrill giggle. “Hell yeah we are! What was I even worried about?”

 

“Don’t even worry, mate, just believe in ol’ Murdoc.”

 

He giggles softer and put his arms around your shoulders, giving you an awkward side hug while you continue to walk. Usually, you hated physical contact, but it is comforting right now. His body heat is enough to make you distracted from the fact that you’ve forgotten your jacket and it’s unusually chilly for September. You instinctively lean in and rest your head on shoulder, laughing at something he said that you didn’t register fully. He’s laughing too, taking one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it behind you.

 

“Oi! Faggots! Take it somewhere else, yeah?” 

 

You both stop and turn toward the yelling. A small group of drunken men are across the road, smoking outside of a pub. A stout man is almost in the road, and you assume he’s the one who shouted. 2D instantly lets go of you and steps back, while you take on a defensive stance, squaring your shoulders and puffing your chest. “What was that, lad? Could ya repeat it?” you shout back. 

 

The group of men chuckle, and the man steps forward. “I said,” he starts mockingly, “We don’t like fairies around here, so fuck off!”

 

You feel 2D’s hand on your shoulder. “L-let’s just go, yeah?” he says with anxiety clear in his voice. You can feel his hand shaking, and you guess this isn’t a new scenario for him.

 

“Piss off, Dents, they don’t get to talk to us that way.” You take a hit from your cigarette before tossing it in the direction of the man, landing it no more than half a meter away from him. “Fuck off, huh? Well, what makes you think I’d listen to a cunt like you?” you sneer at the guy, knowing damn well you’re too drunk to see, let alone fight, but you can’t let yourself back down. 

 

The man starts to stomp towards you, and suddenly you’re being dragged back up the road towards the pub you parked at. Despite his frail figure, 2D is surprisingly strong when he’s scared. At first you resist because the thought of fleeing a fight disgusts you, but once you nearly trip on air and realize you don’t have a chance, you give in and run full speed. You don’t stop until you reach the pub, panting and dry heaving. Luckily, it seems the guy gave up the chase since you don’t hear running behind you. 

 

2D sits on the ground beside the Astra, clearly pissed off. “What the hell, Murdoc? Are you trying to get us killed?” he says between gasps.

 

You lean up against the car. “What did you want me to do? Guy was a total wanker, he deserved to get a taste of the ol’ Niccals one-two!”

 

“You’re too bloody drunk to fight and you know it,” he replies, still wheezing but managing to stand up. “You’re just all mouth and no trousers, you know?”

 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

 

His eyebrows move in a way that you assume he’s rolling his eyes at you. “Can we just go?”

 

You want to argue but your vision is spinning, so you get in the Astra as he slowly follows suit.

 

“Are you even okay to drive?” he asks.

 

“Just don’t puke and it’ll be alright.”

 

He slumps in the seat and looks straight ahead as you attempt to drive home safely. Luckily, there aren’t any patrolmen out and about to notice how badly you’re swerving, and 2D doesn’t mention it. About halfway to his house, he suddenly sits forward whips his head towards you.

 

“Murdoc, I can’t go home like this.”

 

“What? You’ve never snuck back into your own home before?”

 

“Well yeah but...I don’t want to deal with him in the morning. You know?”

 

You sigh deeply but you get it. Back in the day, you didn’t go home either. You wait until you see there isn’t any cars around and make an illegal u-turn back to your flat. The sudden movement turn him green, but luckily he manages to hold it in until you get back to the car park, where he promptly opens the door and vomits all the whiskey you so graciously nicked from the bar for the two of you. You groan and walk over to him, holding him up by his stupid polo until you think he’s finished. He mutters out a “thanks” and you half drag him to your settee. As you turn to leave, he look up at you with a disappointed frown. “You going to bed?”

 

“Nah, probably stay up and drink some more.”

 

“Well, I’m not sleeping. Can I join you?”

 

You raise an eyebrow at him and laugh. “After what I just saw you do? I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

 

“Sod off, I’m fine.”

 

He is most definitely not fine. You shrug regardless, gesturing for him to come to the bedroom. He stumbles into the wall a couple times but manages to fall onto your bed. You shed your shirt and grab a bottle of tequila from your table. 2D gives you a look.

 

“If you had alcohol this whole time, why waste the money going out?”

 

“Just needed a night out.”

 

“Yeah, well, look how that turned out.”

 

“Shut up, you git, I didn’t want that to happen!”

 

He cringes away from you, and you almost feel bad.

 

You spend the next hour taking shots, you more than him this time. You start getting back to the stage of drunk where you’re slurring and laughing over nothing.  Looking over to the clock, you notice that it’s 3am. You’re sitting at the computer you stole a year or so ago, looking at houses for sale. One sticks out in your mind. It’s a mansion that is _ ridiculously _ cheap. In fact, the owners just need a gardener. With encouragement from 2D, you enter your application and bingo bongo; the interview is yours. 

 

Later, you and 2D lie side by side on your bed, staring up at the ceiling and chatting about the most random topics. Dents looks about ready to pass out. You don’t have the energy to kick him out to sleep on the couch.

 

“Y-you-you know, dullard,” you manage to stutter, “I didn’t m-mean to have those arseholes at our throats earlier.”

 

He chuckles. “‘S not your fault. We did look kinda gay.”

 

“Something against poofs?”

 

“Can’t be against something I am, mate.”

 

You grin. You knew that when you caught him staring at you shirtless earlier. 

 

“Yeah, I could tell from the moment I met you that you were a twink.”

 

“Really? Well, don’t tell my folks, they have no clue.” He ignores the slur.

 

“Nah, your secret’s safe with me.”

 

He laughs softly. “Thanks.”

 

“And uh, it seems like what happened with those blokes outside the pub has happened to ya before, if I’m not wrong.”

 

He swallows hard. “Yeah, there were some rough times in school. It’s a good thing I’m clumsy, otherwise I would’ve been questioned for the bruises I was getting.”

 

A pang of guilt hits you when you remember that you also used to give him bruises.

 

“What about you?” he asks quietly.

 

“What about me?”

 

“What are you into?”

 

“I don’t like to label myself. I just fuck whatever feels right.”

 

“Right on…” A few minutes later, you hear soft snoring coming from him. You decide to sleep too, and you turn off your bedside lamp.

 

~~~~~

 

The sound of your neighbours having a “friendly” argument wakes you up, and you really wish they hadn’t. You head feels a tonne heavier and like it might split open any second. You groan and try to use your arm to shield your eyes from the light coming in through your window, but it’s stuck under something heavy and warm. You turn and see 2D snuggled against your side, using your arm as a pillow. His arm is wrapped around your stomach. You feel a jolt run down your spine and instantly shove him off the bed, waking him up and you hear a loud yelp as he hits the floor.

 

“Bloody hell, Murdoc, what’s your deal?” he groans.

 

“Don’t cuddle me and that shit wouldn’t happen.”

 

“Didn’t mean to…” he rolls over onto his back and rubs his temples. He’s got to be suffering right now, especially with his normal migraines. You wonder if he brought his pills along. Suddenly he sits up and turns to look at you with widened eyes. “Did...did we buy a house last night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey, that's pretty gay
> 
> "bingo-bongo" was added as a request from my best friend bc we say it literally everyday
> 
> tumblr is: phasez-of-2doc!


	10. Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy their first night in the new house, and 2D meets someone new.
> 
> CW: mild panic attacks, family disputes, alcohol, sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert: badly described sex ahead
> 
> this is the longest chapter i've written and probably the longest chapter i'll ever write

 

 

You’ve been pacing in your room for at least 40 minutes now. Your nails were almost bitten down to the cuticle, you can’t stop shaking, and the pills haven’t stopped the stress migraine tearing through your skull. Today is the day you move to the new house with Murdoc, and you haven’t told your parents. You keep staring at your suitcase full of essentials by the door with growing anxiety. God, what you wouldn’t give for a cigarette.

 

Murdoc will be in here less than a half hour. You’re running out of time. 

 

Your breathing only gets more ragged as you sit on your bed to try to calm the swirling in your mind. You’ve never passed out solely from anxiety before, but surely there’s a first for anything. You leg just will not stop bouncing and a pain rips through your chest.  _ Maybe I’m just having a heart attack. Maybe I’m dying! _ You let out a shaky breath, ignoring that thought.

 

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed gripping at chunks of your hair when you hear your mum knock. She comes in, taking in your appearance.

 

“Stu? What’s wrong, baby? I haven’t seen you like this since the hospital…”

 

You force yourself to look up at her and attempt to smile. “I’m doing okay mum, just doing some thinking.”

 

She clearly doesn’t believe you but she keeps to herself and sits down beside you. “Well, alright. Murdoc’s outside, he’s already honked a few times.”

 

You nearly collapse and your heart officially stops. You have to tell her. Now.

 

“Mum, l-listen…” you start, but she’s already caught her eye on your suitcase.

 

“Stuart...honey are you...moving out?” You can hear her voice catch. Even though you’re twenty, you’ve never given much thought to moving away from your parents, and never gave your overprotective mother a chance to worry. You can feel a pit of guilt form in your gut. You should have told her sooner.

 

“Yeah, mum. Me and Murdoc were looking at this house and uh… we’re going to be starting the band soon, so, uh...we need more room to practise. I-I should have told you sooner… I’m sorry.”

 

She’s quiet for a moment, and you’re scared she’s going to cry. You always break down when you see your mother cry. 

 

But she just pulls you into a tight hug. “I knew that this day would come. I just didn’t want to think about it.” She leans back and looks you directly in the eye the first time she’s done so since the accident. She’s crying, but you don’t think it’s the sad kind. “Stuart, you are an amazing, wonderful young man. You’ve accomplished so much in this past month. This time last year, I cried every night thinking you’d never life a full life with the state you were in. I really thought your life was over. I tried to hide it from your father, but he knew. I think that’s why he isn’t too keen on Murdoc.” She pauses to wipe her eyes. “Look at you now. You’re all grown up. I’m so proud of you, Stuart. I know you’ll make wonderful music.”

 

You’re bawling, and feeling like a proper kid but you just bury your head in her shoulder and ramble on about how much you love her. She just pats your head and lets you get it all out. You’re sure Murdoc is gonna be angry you aren’t rushing to get outside, but you’ll deal with him later.

 

“Rachel! Either tell Stuart to get outside or I’m going to rip the horn from Murdoc’s car!”

 

You both laugh at your dad, knowing fully well he’d do it. Your mum lets you go and stands up, grabbing your suitcase for you. She holds it out, but hesitates when you grab at it. “Stuart...You know I love you no matter what, right?”

 

You’re confused. “Yeah?”

 

“Is there...anything...going on between you and Murdoc?”

 

You don’t process what she’s says for a few seconds, and you feel your face burning when you do. “N-n-n-no! Nothing!” Great, your stutter betrays you again.

 

She smiles. She knows.

 

She opens the door for you and you take one last look at your room before heading down the hall. Mum was the easy one to convince; now it was dad’s turn.

 

He’s lying down on the settee, watching the news, as usual. You never understood his obsession with learning about everything that’s wrong with the world. It all just makes you depressed. He turns to you, noticing the suitcase in your hand. You open your mouth to try to speak but nothing will come out other than a small squeak. Your mother notices and helps you out.

 

“Davey, honey, Stuart has some news.”

 

He immediately jumps up from the settee, face beet red and all his blood vessels on display. He looks you in the eye. You’ve never been more scared. “Don’t tell me you’re moving in with that wanker!”

 

“David!” Mum whispers harshly. You’re heart’s beating too fast so you just bow your head down.

 

“You’re just okay with this? You’re perfectly fine with Stuart living with someone like him?” He scoffs. “Do you want to kill your son?!”

 

You look back up at him, shocked. Your mum makes a choked sound, and you think she’s crying again. It’s one thing for him to yell at you, but your mum has no part in this. She doesn’t deserve it. Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to step in front of Mum and look at him.

 

“That’s enough, dad!” you yell loud enough for Murdoc to hear outside. “All you’ve done is give Murdoc shit, an-an-and you don’t even know how important he is to me! He saved my life, you know, and without him I wouldn’t even be here! Yeah, he mucked up, so what? He didn’t mean to hit me, but you keep acting like that was his plan all along! Don’t you  _ dare  _ blame Mum for any of this, this is  **MY** choice, and I’m moving out whether you like it or not.” You’re panting and dizzy, but damn that felt good!

 

Your dad is stunned. You’ve never stood up to him before. He tries to reach out for your shoulder. “Stu…”

 

You shake him off. You take the suitcase from your mother gently, giving her an apologetic smile for cursing, and walk to the door. “I love you both very much. I’ll come back to get the rest of my stuff soon.” 

 

You walk out.

 

When the door closes behind you, you let out a choked sob and walk toward the Astra. Murdoc notices your emotional issues and leans over to open the door for you. You get in and throw your suitcase in the back. You sit there as tears keep streaming down your face. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask.

 

About halfway into the drive, you progress from silent crying to putting your head in your hands and letting go. You feel embarrassed that Murdoc has to see you like this, but it’s all too much for you to handle right now. Mum always said that you were a very emotional boy.

 

Murdoc clears his throat awkwardly. “Didn’t go well, I take it?”

 

You sob for another moment before replying, “He hates me. He hates you, and now he hates me!”

 

“Dents, I’m sure he-”

 

“He told Mum that moving in with you would kill me.”

 

He snorts. “Well that’s bollocks. Can’t sing in the band if you’re dead, right?”

 

“Murdoc!” you shout, offended. “Can we move on from the bloody band for a moment? I just lost my relationship with my father!”

 

“You didn’t lose your relationship, dullard. Trust me, I know what  _ that _ feels like.”

 

You look over at him. “What happened with your dad?”

 

His face flares in anger. “None of your damn business, faceache.”

 

You flinch and look back to the windscreen. You don’t appreciate being yelled at but you suppose it was your fault. You shouldn’t pry like that.

 

It’s quiet for another ten minutes before Murdoc speaks up again, calmer than before but still with an edge to his voice. 

 

“He’ll come around, 2D. He might be angry right now, but it’s only a matter of time until he phones you to apologize.” He hesitates. “Your dad loves you,” he says almost so quiet you don’t hear him.

 

You’re stunned. “You think so?”

 

“Not a doubt in my mind.”

 

You look over at him and smile. “Thank you.”

 

Not long after, you arrive at a huge hill in the Essex countryside. You can barely see a glimpse of a purple house up top. Murdoc tells you that it’s the place, and he drives straight through the flimsy iron gates with a laugh. Flashbacks from your accident race in your mind, and your body starts shaking involuntarily. You shut your eyes and try to steady your breathing. The last thing you need right now is another panic attack. Once your mind realizes that you’re safe, you slowly start to relax again.

 

The bottom of the hill is an entire graveyard. There is a crematorium right down the road from the house, so it’s not too surprising. Still scary. After a short drive you fully see the house. Well, house isn’t the right word. You see the  _ mansion.  _ Your eyes widen.

 

“Cor, Murdoc, this really ours?”

 

He chuckles. He’s already seen it, as he and a few of his ‘friends’ moved his furniture in last week. “Yep, there she is!”

 

“It’s huge! How did you afford this?”

 

“Now  _ that’s  _ a crazy story! Get this; the people who owned this just needed a gardener, yeah?” You nod. “Well, when I came up here to meet them, they just threw the keys at me! We got all this for free, D!”

 

“Free…” You aren’t sure about this. “Why do you think that is?”

 

“Oh, they were prattling off something about how it’s built on a mass grave, curses and ghouls, blah, blah.”

 

You whip your head towards him. “Curses?! Murdoc, are you mad?” You mind goes back to what your dad said.

 

“A little bit, but that’s what makes me great!” He laughs loudly and pulls into the car park. You’re shaking again.

 

You grab your suitcase and a few of his bags and head inside. It’s even more impressive than the outside. High ceilings, wide spaces, a real beaut! Maybe you can get past the demons if you remember that this is all for free. 

 

“Here she is!” Murdoc announces. He isn’t carrying as many bags as you but with his smaller arms, you think it’s fair. 

 

“This is incredible!” you shout, and your voice ricochets off the walls.

 

“There’s plenty of rooms, so just pick your favourite.”

 

You set the bags down and spend the next hour looking around the various nooks and crannies of the mansion. You settle for a room in the basement; it’s cosy and secluded enough to where you hope you won’t have to worry about ghouls. You already have a mattress that Murdoc “found”, so you and him spend some time maneuvering it all the way to your room. 

 

His room is already finished, save for his clothes and knick knacks, but knowing Murdoc, he probably isn’t the type to decorate. He helps you unpack your overflowing suitcase and set things up. When you’re finished, you’re proud of the result. It’s pretty bare, but you had planned on going back to your house to get more things once the issues with your dad blow over. Right now, you have a bed with an orange set, a few of your favourite posters, a bundle of some clothes in the back corner, a small foldable table that Murdoc had you’re using as a nightstand with your alarm clock on it, and your record player with a few records beside it. You beam at your new home, forgetting for a moment about your dad and ghosts. “Well, Murdoc? What do you think?”

 

“Looks like a shithole,” he replies blankly. “Wanna go out tonight? Celebrate the new house?”

 

His comment stings but you ignore it. “Eh, I don’t know about that, Murdoc. It didn’t go well last time.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “I won’t let it happen again, honest.”

 

You sigh but if you don’t agree, he might be upset. You’ve already fought with your father, you don’t have the energy to fight with him. “Yeah, alright.”

 

He smiles and clasps a hand on your shoulder. “Great, I knew you’d pull through, Dents. Get dressed and meet me upstairs in twenty.”

 

He leaves you flustered from the tight grip on your shoulder and you spend half your time sitting on the floor willing for the burn in your cheeks to go away. You've realized in the past week that you may be developing a sort-of crush on Murdoc, which is really pathetic. You eventually pull yourself together enough to throw on a nice white jumper and jeans. You slip on the same trainers you’ve worn for the past few years before heading upstairs. Murdoc is already leaning against the wall in the entryway, waiting. 

 

“It’s about time, dullard, what were you doing down there?”

 

You feel flushed again and bow your head to hide the blush. “Just didn’t know what to wear,” you lied.

 

He doesn’t respond, instead heading to the park park. You follow, still flushed. If this keeps up, he’s going to suspect something. He doesn’t mention it, though, and you head out in the Astra.

 

“What kind of nightlife does Essex even have?” you ask.

 

“Dunno, we’ll find something,” he shrugs.

 

You eventually land on a club in Chelmsford with flashing neon lights and a crowd of people on the pavement. Murdoc seems excited, but you feel that same feeling in your gut that you had last time. You instinctively look down to shield your eyes. This time, however, Murdoc comes prepared.

 

He pulls out a pair of sunglasses from the console. “Here.”

 

You take them without a word. This is so nice of him… You find your heart skipping a beat.

 

You stay close behind him as he navigates the crowd. You fight the urge to hold his hand so you won’t get separated. He shoves his way to the door and opens it for you, just like like time. Once inside, you follow him to the bar near the entrance. He orders something that you can’t hear over the thumping bass tearing through your skull. You realize that you forgot to take your pills. You cringe and try to rub your temples, but you know it won’t do much. Murdoc hands you your drink, and you sigh knowing that it will numb the pain a bit. It’s rum and coke, same as before. He knows you so well. 

 

The two of your head over to a vacant table near the back corner. It seems Murdoc is just as much a loner as you when it comes to these things. He’s drinking some sort of vodka cocktail, and he has two more in the lineup. You briefly wonders where he gets his money but decides it’s too personal to ask. You just quietly sip your drink and look around the room. The bodies are packed out on the dance floor. This is definitely a long way from the quiet pubs you usually go to.

 

After a couple more drinks, your headache has definitely calmed down to a distant buzz and you welcome the haze of drunkenness that’s surrounding your already cloudy skull. Murdoc is feeling his liquor too, though not as much as you. He’s attracted the attention of an average looking lady with short black hair and a dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. She’s sitting on the table in front of him, and you can only sit back and watch in silent jealousy as he snakes his hand up her thigh. He whispers something in her ear that makes her let out a shrill giggle. You decide that you’ve had enough, and use the liquid courage to your advantage to make your way to the bar. You order a straight shot of vodka, and down it with only minimal cringing. You’re feeling particularly agitated right now, and just really need to blow off steam. 

 

As you’re about to order another, a tall woman approaches your side and winks at you. She says to the bartender, “Old fashioned please”, looks over at you, smiles, and says, “Make it two”. 

 

You smile back at her. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that, love.” Love? Where was this flirt coming from?

 

“Don’t worry, my treat. You look like you need it,” she replies.

 

“You’d be right,” you mutter quietly, but you know she hears you.

 

The bartender returns and hands her the drinks. She gives one to you, clinking the glass and proclaiming, “Cheers!” before chugging it. You decide to just take a small sip at first. You’ve never had an “old fashioned” before since you rarely go to pubs anyway, but you like the taste. Burns the way you would like it to right now.

 

The mystery woman leans over to you. “Do you smoke? Want to go outside? Bit crowded in here.”

 

You nod and peek a glance at Murdoc. He’s snogging a different girl than the one he was talking to before. You feel the fire in your stomach burn a little brighter before looking away and walking outside.

 

It feels amazing outside. With your jumper, being around all those people is a tad too hot for your liking, but the crisp autumn air feels just perfect. Or maybe you are just too drunk to feel cold right now. 

 

The woman hands you a fag and lights it before doing the same for herself. You admire her kindness before taking a drag. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve had nicotine, even though it hadn’t been more than a few hours, and you nearly moan at the feeling of it coursing through your system. She lets out a small giggle.

 

“Thought you could use one. You seem really pissed off about something.”

 

“Just… going through a lot, I guess.”

 

She nods like she understands. “Same here. World’s a fucked up place, innit?”

 

You chuckle. “You’re right.” 

 

“I’m Paula.”

 

You take a drag before replying. “I’m Stuart, but uh, I go by 2D now.”

 

She gives you a look. “That’s a strange nickname.”

 

You hesitate, but you suppose this random stranger won’t mean much to you in the long run. You take off the sunglasses and look at her. “Stands for the dents in my face. I, uh, don’t really like showing people.” You expect her to scream.

 

But she only looks at you with an excited grin. “No way! That’s wicked, what happened?” she asks while holding your cheeks and looking into your eyes.

 

You blush. “Uh-uh-uh, car crash, a year ago,” you stutter out. 

 

She giggles but doesn’t let go of your face. “Well thank you for showing me. I think it’s really cool.”

 

You giggle back. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She leans up and closes the space between you, kissing you hard. You tense at first, your brain not quite catching up, but you relax and wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her close against your body. She opens her mouth, inviting your tongue in and you accept. Before this moment, you’ve never really noticed how soft the human tongue is. It’s just now that you’re realizing truly how long it has been since you’ve done this with anyone. You honestly missed the feeling of arousal making your legs weak, and with that thought, you slam her violently against the brick wall of the building. She moans unabashed into your mouths, making you groan in return. 

 

She pulls back and leans up to your ear, nipping it. “As much as I would love to blow you in this alleyway, do you have a place we can go back to for privacy?” she whispers in your ear.

 

You only shiver and nod in response, giving her hip one last hard squeeze before putting your sunglasses back on and leading her back inside to find Murdoc. 

 

As expected, he’s still in the same spot, chatting with the first girl from the night. You make a vague face of disgust but head over anyway, tapping his shoulder.

 

“Hey, can we leave soon? I found someone to take home,” you say without really thinking, just focusing on what’s about to happen when you get home. 

 

He nearly barks a laugh at you. “What? You?”

 

You pull Paula to your side, feeling victorious over Murdoc. “Yes, Murdoc, me.”

 

He gives you an impressed look. “Wow, Dents, didn’t know ya had it in ya. Thought you were solely a poof.” He laughs. “But I’m not ready to leave, so fuck off.”

 

“Murdoc-”

 

“I have a car,” Paula interjects. 

 

You look at her, never thinking of the possibility. “Oh, right. Go on, then.” You give Murdoc one last glare as you follow her outside. You can hear him laugh behind your back.

 

You head out to Paula’s car, a nice little red car, kind of looks like your nan’s. “Are you good to drive?” you ask, knowing you clearly aren’t. 

 

“Yeah, I haven’t drank enough yet,” she replies.

 

You trust her. 

 

After almost an hour of searching, you finally remember the way to your new home. She seems stunned by the mansion. “You live here? All alone on this big hill?”

 

You chuckle. “Yeah, uh, me and Murdoc are trying to start a band, so we needed a lot of space and the place was free, so…”

 

“Wait, this was yours for free? What, is it haunted?”

 

“Uh, yes, actually.”

 

“Wicked.”

 

You give her a mini tour before making the way to your bedroom. Since you don’t have a lot of furniture, it’s a short tour, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

 

As soon as your bedroom door closes, she goes straight to attacking your neck and taking your shirt off. You chuckle and let her, throwing the shirt to the side. You tangle your hands in her hair, pulling her into another hard kiss. She kisses back with no complaints, leading you over to your bed. She pushes you, climbing on top of you when you fall back. She takes off her shirt, revealing that she isn’t wearing a bra. She leans back down to kiss you while you pinch and tease her nipples. She lets out a breathy moan and laughs, sitting back up and scooting down to undo your fly. 

 

You put your arms above your head and close your eyes, trying to focus on this amazing sensation you almost forgot while you were in your coma. In reality, the only times you’ve even thought about these urges has been when Murdoc would say or do something that sends a jolt of longing to your groin.

 

Oh, wait, bad move. Don’t think about Murdoc right now. Think about Paula, and the way she’s doing that  _ thing  _ with her mouth. You groan and reach one of your hands down to grip her hair. She loves that, moaning around your dick and sending vibrations straight to your  _ soul. _ You use your other hand to grip your own hair. You’re so sweaty and so drunk and  _ so close,  _ you can’t believe you forgot about this part of your life. 

 

Suddenly she stops, and you actually almost let out a whimper before noticing she’s fully naked and climbing on you. You don’t fully realize what’s happening until she fully sheathes herself on you in one go, and you nearly cry out. Instead, you settle on a choked moan as you place your hands on her hips, half-heartedly attempting to guide her as she grinds on you. You close your eyes tight and try to focus on waiting for her to finish before you do, but it’s an uphill battle you aren’t sure you can win. Luckily, from the way she’s shaking, she seems to be in the same boat you are. She must have been preparing herself while she was going down on you. The thought of that alone make you grip her sides hard and force yourself not to come right on the spot. She moans quite loudly, and you moan back much quieter in response.

 

You have to give her credit for not being afraid to be loud. You don’t know if you could ever get that comfortable with someone. You still have a lot of insecurities with your voice in general, moaning out loud is a big, uncomfortable topic for you. Usually you just force yourself to be quiet. You can only think of a handful of times where you’ve actually screamed.

 

_ Focus, Stuart! _

 

“Stuart!”

 

She yells out your birth name while she comes, and  _ thank God  _ you were too lost in thought to come early. You let out a strangled moan as you pull her up off of you, slicking her belly just in time. She giggles sweetly and leans down to kiss your nose, sliding off of you and using your jumper to clean herself. You lean down to retrieve the pack of cigarettes from her trousers pocket, surely she won’t care? You give one to her and lay down before retrieving a lighter from your nightstand and lighting both. She curls into your side, and you hold her while you smoke in silence. 

 

She speaks first. “So, thoughts?”

 

You laugh loudly. “Great, love. Been a while since I’ve done that.”

 

“How long?”

 

You shrug. “Around a year and a half.”

 

She makes a strange sound that sorta sounds like a confused scoff. “Over a year? What, were you taking a year of celibacy?”

 

You don’t know what that means. “No, I was in a coma.”

 

She sits up to look at you, giving you a wide smile. “A coma? You’re a strange one, Stu.” She ashes her cigarette and lays back down on your chest. “Can’t wait to get to know ya better.”

 

You feel a flutter in your stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh writing erotica makes me cringeeeee
> 
> I'm so sorry lmao
> 
> Tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


	11. Enter Player Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new member joins the band.
> 
> CW: mild sexual content, criminal activity, panic attacks, violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big love for Russ, honestly.

You wake up somewhere around 2pm, head pounding and nausea tearing through your stomach. You’re on your bedroom floor, bundled up in your sheets. You groan, untangling your legs and sitting up. Despite your partying spirit, you’re not twenty anymore; you should really stop drinking like it. 

 

You sit there for a few more moments before forcing yourself to get up and go downstairs for some water. Or more alcohol. You’ll decide when you get there.

 

After a quick pit stop to the restroom, you enter the kitchen to the lovely scene of 2D and his new gal Patty (Paula? Pearl? You’ve forgotten.) snogging against the cabinets. You’re getting sick of this sight. Ever since they started dating, she hasn’t really been spending time in her own home, instead choosing to bother you at yours. 2D seems to have fallen madly in love with her, given the short time span. You think she doesn’t seem to feel the same, though. She barely pays any mind to a word he says. She always just waves him off or gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The only time she seems to become animated is when someone he talks about the band. You know her type. She just seems to care about being a part of this band you’re forming, and it seems that she’s voiced her “opinion” to 2D. He has been all about trying to make her the guitarist. “ _ Murdoc, you should hear her, she’s incredible!”, “Murdoc, have you given any thought into letting her in?” “Murdoc, you should hear this song she wrote!”  _ You’ve let her in on a couple practises, just to see what would happen, but with her out of tune playing and habit of missing cues, you don’t know how much longer you can take.

 

 He’s got one hand on her arse and the other on her tit, but she doesn’t seem that into it. You clear your throat loud enough for them to hear over the disgusting slurping they’re making, causing 2D to jump and fling himself away from her, while she simply leans back more and gives you a sly smile. You give her a glare in return. She really knows how to piss you off.

 

“For fuck’s sake, will you leave it in the bedroom? I already feel ill, I don’t need this crap in the morning.”

 

“It’s 2 in the afternoon, actually,” Patty/Paula/Pearl sneers.

 

“I didn’t ask you,  _ slag _ ,” you bark back.

 

“Murdoc! Don’t call Paula that, she’s a lovely girl if you’d just give her a chance,” you hear 2D quip from the other side of the room.

 

“Shut it, Dents, don’t need to hear from you either.”

 

He just looks away with a scowl. Paula struts over to him to give him a quick kiss on the nose. “I’ve got to get going anyway, love. See you at the next band practise?”

 

He smiles like a prat at her. “Of course, darling. Love you.”

 

She doesn’t repeat it and walks out of the kitchen, and hopefully, the house.

 

“You know she doesn’t love you back,” you remark.

 

“Of course she does!” 2D shouts defiantly.

 

“Does she ever say it?” you ask, knowing the answer.

 

He hesitates. “Well...no, but maybe she’s not comfortable enough yet.”

 

“Probably because you’ve been shagging for a week and you think you hear wedding bells in the distance.”

 

His blush shows you that you’re correct. “That’s not true...and it’s been longer than a week, you know.”

 

“How long then?” you ask with a smile, enjoying this pathetic back-and-forth.

 

“Nine days… “ he answers quietly.

 

You give him a hearty laugh. “You’re hopeless, dullard.”

 

He sighs before sitting at the dining table and banging his head on it. “I know,” he whines.

 

You walk to him and grasp him by the shoulder. He tenses. “Cheer up, mate, I’ve got a special project for us today!” You’ve been excited for this all week while you were coming up with a solid plan.

 

He turns his head to look at you but doesn’t lift himself up off the table. “What’re we doing?”

 

You’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt but you cannot contain the adrenaline rushing through you. “Fancy a trip to Soho today?”

 

Now he sits up. “Soho? In London?” he asks. “What for?”

 

It’s finally time to share the news. “I found us a drummer, D.”

 

His eyes light up, forgetting everything that just happened a moment ago. “Really? That’s fantastic, who is it?”

 

“Russel Hobbs.”

 

“What, like the toasters?”

 

You roll your eyes. “No, dullard, some American bloke who’s staying in London. I’ve been researching him all week. I think he’s the perfect guy for Gorilla!”

 

He laughs. “I still think we need a name change, Murdoc.”

 

You wave him off. “Get ready, we’re walking to the station in ten.”

 

“Station?”

 

“Yeah, we’re taking the railway, I’m not wasting my petrol.” You notice him fidgeting his hands and sigh. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’ve never ridden on the railway before,” he says with clear anxiety.

 

“What? You’ve never risen Hell in London?”

 

He shakes his head. “Only went to London on family trips. Brighton once. Otherwise, I stayed in Crawley.”

 

You chuckle lowly. “Well, you’ve had quite the adventurous year, haven’t you? Come, then, you’ll be fine.”

 

Almost fifteen minutes later, the two of you head out to Chelmsford station. 2D is wearing his sunglasses, despite the fact that it’s an overcast day. Judging by the way he’s spaced out, you suspect he’s taken his pills before you left too. You wish he’d just accept his appearance and move on with his life. He’s gorgeous, after all. 

 

You shake your head at that disgusting thought.

 

You reach the station in no time, although 2D looks a bit winded from the walk. Or maybe he’s breathing heavy from anxiety. You shrug; it doesn’t matter much to you. You wait at the platform for what feels like ages before 2D finally speaks up.

 

“Murdoc, I’m nervous…”

 

You roll your eyes, already frustrated with him. You’ve still got a long day ahead of you. “You’ll be fine, 2D, you aren’t going to die on the train. I won’t let you.”

 

He perks up. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, you still need to sing in the band.”

 

He seems deflated for a moment before smiling and bowing his head. Guilt racks your gut, but you don’t know why. You wish you’d gotten drunk.

 

Not too long after, the train arrives and you get on and try to find an empty spot. You don’t mind crowds, but 2D seems to be struggling a bit, keeping his head low and hoping not to attract attention. With his hair colour, it’s hopeless. You hear someone down a ways whisper the word “blue” and it makes your nose wrinkle. 

 

“Hey D,” you start, “if all the hair on your body is blue, why are your eyebrows black? Why aren’t they brown, like before?” You’ve been wondering that for awhile now, but you also feel that he needs a distraction.

 

He looks up at you with confusion etched on his face. “How do you know the rest of my hair is blue, not just my head?”

 

“I’ve bathed you and changed your nappies many times, Dents. I’ve seen more of you than I’d care to admit.”

 

He sports a deep flush at that, quickly looking away. “You’ve seen me naked?” he whispers.

 

“Many times,” you repeat with a chuckle.

 

He groans. “That’s embarrassing…”

 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you say while poking his side with your long fingernail.

 

He blushes more but answers, “Dunno, really. I never even thought about it. After the incident, I was too upset about the blue to be focused on the eyebrows.”

 

“You didn’t like the blue at first?”

 

“No, it’s not a very good colour for a preteen,” he laughs.

 

“You’ve got that right, mate” you laugh along.

 

“I tried to dye it once or twice, you know. Even shaved it.”

 

“Didn’t go well?”

 

“Well, my hair’s still blue so, no.”

 

That makes you both laugh for a moment. You’re certain the other people on the train are looking at you funny but you don’t give a shit.

 

“You know, it’s crazy,” he starts. “You know so much about me and my past, but I don’t really know a thing about you.”

 

“Better off that way,” you deadpan. He doesn’t respond to that.

 

2D spends the rest of the ride with a smile as you two joke about your various bodily flaws. You learn that he hates his voice when he hears it in recordings, and you feel slightly bad about the way you pointed it out when you first met. While he sounds like a dying cat when he talks, he sings quite beautifully. The first time you heard him sing, you thought you went into shock for a moment. It’s just such a stark contrast, you almost thought he was playing the recording of someone else. You tell him that, and he can’t stop smiling. It makes your stomach feel sick, and you think you might vomit before you realize that you’ve made your stop.

 

2D surprisingly gets up before you and leads the way outside. He seems to be in a much better mood than before, despite how much more crowded it is in Stratford. He turns to you and gives you a large smile. “I did it, Murdoc!” he practically shouts in the station, earning some looks. 

 

You grab him by the arm and lead him over to the next platform. “Come on, you berk,” you chuckle.

 

He bounces on his heels like a child while you wait for the next train. It takes less time for this one to arrive, and it’s less crowded than the one before. The two of you are quiet this time around, but you don’t mind. You hangover is really starting to kill and you appreciate silence from 2D. He seems to be doing better than the first time too, happily attempting to read the various posters and ads all over the walls.

 

The train stops at a few platforms, but eventually you end up at Oxford Underground. From there it’s another short walk to Soho. 2D takes in the sights of the city, but you don’t have time to take him for a tour; you need to initiate phase two of your plan. You grab him by the arm, ignoring his protests as you look around in seedy car parks. Finally, you see a white, windowless van, the perfect vehicle. You let go of 2D as you walk to the van. Luckily, the window is cracked, so you pull out your metal hook to undo the lock.

 

2D starts to panic as he realizes what’s happening. “Murdoc, what’re you doing?! This isn’t our van!”

 

“No shit, dullard, I’m jacking it.”

 

“What for?!” he nearly screams, prompting you to pause and cover his mouth. 

 

“Listen, unless you want to go to jail with me, sit here and shut up until I’m done working, yeah?”

 

He nods and you let him go to continue your “work”. He can’t help but to pace to release his nervous energy, but you wish he’d just sit still. 

 

Finally, you hear a click as the door unlocks. You open it and unlock the other door. “Get in!” you shout and he reluctantly follows your lead. You hotwire the car and speed out of the car park towards your final destination: Big Rick’s. 2D is in a full blown panic attack by now, gripping at his hair and whispering something you can’t make out under his breath. You just laugh loudly, finally feeling like you’re getting back to your old self. 

 

Not too long after, you arrive at Big Rick’s. You pull into a space near the exit and put the car in park. You turn to 2D and make him look at you before you say:

 

“Now Dents, listen carefully. Sit here and  **don’t move** . I’ll be back in a tick.”

 

He only nods sheepishly before putting his head between his knees. You get out and try to blend in as much as possible for a guy who just committed grand theft auto. You head into the music shop, pretending to look at some obscure jazz CDs before you see him; Russel. You flag him down with the cheeriest smile you can imagine. He smiles back, eager to help the next customer. Oh he’ll help you alright. 

 

The next few minutes pass by in an adrenaline fueled blur. You were convincing him to help you carry a banjo to the van, even though you both knew it wasn’t a two person job, next thing you know, you’re suffocating him with a chloroform-soaked rag you pulled out of your pocket in the back of the van while Dents screams in confusion. Now, you’re driving like mad down the freeway while 2D tends to your new passenger. 

 

“Y-y-y-you c-can’t steal s-s-someone, Murdoc!” 2D stutters. 

 

“Of course I can, I just did!” you laugh.

 

2D is grabbing his head with full intensity now and throws his sunglasses off, squeezing his eyes closed instead. “I can’t believe you, do you know how much trouble we’re going to get in? I can’t go to jail, Murdoc!” Wow, he’s actually angry. It kind of makes you want to laugh.

 

“Calm down, that isn’t gonna happen.”

 

“And how would you know, you’ve damn-near been jailed twice this past year alone!” he screams, looking fully at you now. You grip the wheel tighter. How fucking dare he shout at you like that? His gaze sets you inner fire ablaze, and you strike him in the cheek. He gasps, but otherwise does nothing. That is the first time you’ve struck him while awake, and fuck, it feels good!

 

“Don’t ever talk that way to me again. You’re on thin fucking ice, Dents.”

 

He doesn’t respond, slightly hyperventilating while staring out the window.

 

About ten minutes out of Essex, you hear groans coming from the back. You smile, and turn your head to face him. “Welcome, Russel!”

 

It takes him a moment to come around. When he does, he almost jumps into the front seat. It’s a good thing you thought to bind his hands and feet together. “What the fuck is going on, who are you?” he demands.

 

“Now, now, lad, I know what you’re thinking, but I promise I mean you no harm!” you chuckle. 

 

“Man, you better let me out of this fucking car before I kill you son-of-a-bitches,” he threatens. 2D pales.

 

“None of that, now. Look, I just wanted to know if you’d like to be the drummer of my band! I’ve listened to some of your work, and I’m quite impressed.”

 

He scoffs. “I might’ve said yes if you hadn’t kidnapped me, you psycho!”

 

You thought he’d say that. “Look, just listen to this and then give me an answer.” You produce a cassette of your demo from your coat and pop it in the player. You only have one song right now, lovingly titled “Ghost Train” (which 2D came up with), but you feel that it’s a strong enough argument. Russel listens silently, while 2D cringes in the seat at the sound of his singing.

 

When it’s over, you look back at Russel’s stone-hardened face. “Well, what did ya think?”

 

He’s silent for a long time before sighing and rubbing his face along his hand. “You’ve stalked me, kidnapped me, and gave me an awful headache with that chloroform…but…your sound is good.” He’s quiet for a little while longer. “Alright man,” he continues with a tired sigh. “I’ll give it a try. Was getting bored at Rick’s anyway.”

 

You laugh at that. “Brilliant! Welcome to Gorilla!”

 

You see 2D give a small smile and turn around in his seat to meet the new member. “Nice to meet you. I’m 2D.” You love hearing him introduce himself with the nickname you gave him.

 

They shake hands but 2D doesn’t look away. “Your eyes…,” he starts, “are like mine.” He sounds like he’s amazed. 

 

Russel clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, got a lot of personal demons.” 

 

“Well, you’ll fit in just fine with us!” you bark. 2D sits back in his seat with a tired smile. You smile back at him, already thinking towards the future of the band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is phasez-of-2doc, thanks for reading!


	12. The Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc makes a mistake.
> 
> CW: sexual content, violence, mild gore, mention of vomit, alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah, it's -that- incident

You’re really trying to focus on the song, you swear you are, but her fucking timing is so off.

 

You’ve been practising the same song for twenty-five minutes now, and you think you’re only one more bum chord away from blowing your brains out onto the studio wall. You peek over at Russel; he seems just as pissed off, sweat running down his scowling face. You’ve had a few chats with him about Paula being in the band, and he agrees what maybe you should be looking into other performers. You’ve even had an interview with some short bloke named Jimmy, but he just wasn’t fit for the part. 2D has no clue, obviously. He’s so arse over tit in love with her that he’s ignoring her shortcomings. He’s also too stupid to know that _her_ shortcomings are _the band’s_ shortcomings.

 

He finishes his vocals on Ghost Train for the tenth time, stepping away from the mic and giving Paula a goofy grin. Sweat drips from his hair and he’s red in the face. “How was that one?”

 

“Like the others, Dents, sounds like shite,” you reply. He really isn’t doing that badly, his vocals just don’t match the image you had in your mind when the two of you wrote it back when you first moved in. His voice is almost too...soft?

 

His smiles fades before Paula pipes up. “Sounded good to me, love.”

 

He goes to give her a kiss and you roll your eyes at them. “Alright, let’s call it. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”

 

“Man, we need to finish this soon, or we’ll never get off the ground,” Russel grumbles.

 

“Yeah, yeah, well, if I spend another second in this booth with you all, I’ll end up in the morgue.” You walk out without bothering to check their expressions and head to the kitchen for your mid-afternoon booze. Always relaxes you after a long band practise.

 

After ten minutes and a bottle and a half of beer, Paula slinks into the kitchen and steals a bottle from the case you’ve got on the table. You glower at her.

 

“Where’s your little puppy?” you mock.

 

She scoffs. “Sleeping off his latest headache. All that singing really got to him.”

 

“Not my fault he doesn’t have the right vocals. I’ll just have to keep coaching him.”

 

“You, coaching?” She lets out a short laugh.

 

“What are you implying?” you ask as you finish your current bottle.

 

“You don’t exactly have the pipes yourself,” she states.

 

“Maybe not, but I understand what a the song is supposed to sound like!” you bark back.

 

“Stu isn’t meant for whatever expectations you have, Murdoc.”

 

Maybe she’s right, but you won’t admit it. “He just needs some practise, is all.”

 

“He won’t retain anything you teach him, poor lad barely remembers his birth name,” she laughs.

 

You stare at her from the corner of your eye. “You know, you talk awfully low of your boyfriend.”

 

She’s quiet for a while as she finishes her drink. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just…getting bored.”

 

“Then why don’t you just leave?”

 

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you.” She lets out a quiet laugh before looking back up at you, eyelids drooping. “You know, Murdoc, you’ve always fascinated me.”

 

You don’t know what she’s doing but you don’t get a good feeling from it. “What’re you on about?”

 

She bites her lip and stands up, walking over to your side of the table and sitting down on your lap. You bristle, realizing what she’s trying to do. “Woah, hold on-”

 

“I’ve always found your hardass routine kind of alluring.” She giggles breathlessly, running her long, black nail along your torso.

 

You’re torn. On one hand, you’ve been starved of sex since you moved into the new house. The girls around Essex have much higher standards than the ones in Crawley or Stoke, and Paula wouldn’t be the worst bird you’ve ever been with. But, then again, this is _Paula._ She’s annoying, ugly, and, most importantly, taken by your bandmate. You know that it would crush 2D if you slept with his girlfriend.

 

But when she leans in to whisper, “I’m useful for the band in more ways than one,” your dick makes the decision for you.

 

You finally grin back at her, throwing on the ol’ Niccals charm. “Oh really now? Show me, sweetheart.”

 

She gets off of your lap and beckons you to follow her. She leads you down the hallway to the studio restrooms. Not the most ideal place, your room is not that far away, but the idea of getting caught arouses you even more. You walk in after her, and she closes the door behind you.

 

~~~~~

 

You had hoped you could spend the evening relaxing in your big comfy chair, reading some book Rick had recommended to you, possibly even get in a little nap. All you want is some peaceful alone time.

 

But unfortunately, judging by the moans and shrieks coming from the bathrooms down the hall, you can’t even get that. You’ve been trying to block out the sounds with some music, or meditation, but she seems to get louder every second. You thought D had more manners than this, at least enough decency to take her to his room. Poor kid must’ve forgotten your room is only a short walk away.

 

You groan and rub your eyes before forcing yourself to get out of your chair to confront them. You intend on just knocking and asking for a little silence. When you get halfway there, however, you hear Paula moan out a name that is definitely **not** 2D’s. You rush to open the door, getting an eyeful of the scene. She’s bent over in the stall, staring directly at you, and he’s oblivious to you even being there. She just smiles.

 

You’re taken over by anger as you stomp in and rip them apart, shoving Paula across the room and throwing Murdoc on the floor. His eyes widen in shock and he barely registers what’s happening as you punch him over and over again until you’re certain he’s seeing stars.

 

You look back up at Paula, who’s still got her shirt off. “Leave,” you demand coldly.

 

She lets out a small snort before retrieving her shirt from the floor and walking out the doorway. You decide to leave Murdoc bleeding and dazed to follow her out, just in case she decides to talk to D. When you go out the door, however, he’s already there, taking in the sight of her looking ragged and flushed. He looks confused as he his breathing gets faster.

 

“Paula, what’s going on?” he asks, and it sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

 

She’s silent.

 

He looks over at you, and it’s tearing your heart apart to see him so upset. Even though he constantly annoys you with his ramblings about his family and questions about your eyes, he’s genuinely a good person. He doesn’t deserve this.

 

You notice that he’s staring right behind you, and you turn, seeing Murdoc leaning against the doorway with blood from his nose streaming down his torso. He’s not wearing a shirt, so the blood pools in his navel. He looks at 2D, emotionless. He doesn’t even try to look sorry.

 

2D hardens his gaze, looking back at Paula. “Get out.” He then leaves, most likely going to his room. Paula looks stunned for a moment before bursting into tears and stomping out of the house. You turn back to Murdoc, who still is stoned-faced. It makes your blood boil.

 

“Fix this,” you say harshly, before leaving him to finally read your book.

  


~~~~~

 

Why should you feel bad? It’s not like she loved him anyway. It’s his fault for getting so attached. Honestly, who falls in love in a month? Well, you don’t really believe in love anyway, but surely even the delusional people don’t believe in it in a month. What fucking deal is it to you that’s he’s upset? He’ll be fine in a few days, back to making music as usual.

 

You touch your nose as gently as possible to assess the damage, but even that makes your whole face explode with pain, like a firecracker went off in your nostrils. You hiss as you check it out in the mirror. It certainly looks broken, certainly feels broken, and judging by the blood running down the back of your throat, certainly tastes broken. You swear like a drunken sailor as you put a makeshift plaster of gauze and masking tape you found in the kitchen over your nose. You lean against the sink in an attempt not to pass out from the pain, and somehow, it works.

 

You groan as an unfamiliar feeling of guilt washes over you. Why do you care so much for that dullard? What has he ever done for you? Maybe you’re just worried he’ll quit. He, and you, just need to get over it.

 

After you vomit the blood out of your stomach, you decide to finish your midday drinking to wash it away. You slam the remaining brew from the kitchen before screwing open a cap of tequila from on top of the refrigerator. Fuck it, if you’re gonna get drunk, might as well go all the way.

 

After a couple swigs and thirty minutes, drunk-you decides to see how Dents is doing. You don’t remember the lift ride, but now you’re standing in front of his door, unsure what to even say.

 

This is a bad idea, you shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.

 

Instead, you knock.

 

He doesn’t answer at first, but after a few more knocks and a very whiny “ _Deeeeeennntttssss?”,_ he swings open the door to face you. His face is red and swollen, but his face is hard as he stares at you. “What do you want?”

 

What **do** you want? “I jussssst wanted to make sure you’re alive.”

 

He crosses his arms. “Piss off, you’re drunk.”

 

You let out a mock sound of being offended. “Wow, ruuude much?”

 

He attempts to close the door but you burst through, collapsing on his bed.

 

“Murdoc, get out! I don’t even want to look at you, let alone have to take care of your sorry, drunk arse!”

 

When you don’t reply, he groans in frustration before giving up and sliding to the floor. You stare him down from the bed.

 

“You okayyy?” you call out.

 

He laughs bitterly. “No! I’m not! My best mate just slept with my girlfriend, what the bloody hell do you expect me to feel like!”

 

You’re a bit taken back by “best mate” but you choose to ignore it.“2D, it isn’t my fault…” you start.

 

“No, of course it isn’t. Nothing’s ever your fault, huh?” He’s giving up trying to be strong, and starts crying. “What’s wrong with me, Murdoc? What happened with us? I thought she loved me…”

 

You slink off the bed and crawl over to the door where he’s sitting, attempting to put a reassuring hand on his foot. “Heeeeeey, none of that now, nothing’s wrong with you.” You chuckle. “Well, a lot about you is fucked up, but she was just the worst, 2D!”

 

He kicks your hand off. “Why does the universe keep doing this shit to me, why do **you** keep doing this shit to me?”

 

That throws you off for a moment. That guilty feeling comes creeping back around your brain. You sit up to be side by side to him. “I promisssse you, I did _not_ want to do that.”

 

“Then why did you?!” he screams out. “You knew how much I loved her, and you still went behind my back like that. What kind of friend _are_ you?!”

 

You flinch. “No need to yell, I’m right here.” You sigh and smack your head against the door a couple times. “Dents, _lissssten_ , she came and sat on my lap, whispering this ssssexy shit, what fucking choice did I have, you know?”

 

“The choice not to screw my girlfriend, for one.”

 

“She didn’t even fucking care about you! She-she said that she was bored, that she needed excitement, and I just let my cock do the thinking.” You sigh and put your head between your knees. “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

He absorbs in that information for a moment. “She really said all that?”

 

You lift your head back up and look at him. “Yeah. She really did.”

 

He shakes his head. “I thought she loved me.”

 

“I th-think you just fall in love too easily.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” He sighs shakily while running a hand through his hair, pulling it a bit. “Christ, I’m so stupid.”

 

You try to put a hand on his shoulder, and this time, he lets you. “Don’t get soooo upset over that ugly bitch, Dents. She isn’t worth it.”

 

He chuckles a bit. “Worthy enough for you, bellend.”

 

You sigh. “Are you ever gonna get over this?”

 

“Some day, but not today.”

 

You nod. That’s fair.

 

He looks at you closely. “Does it hurt?”

 

It takes you a few moments to realize he means your nose, not how legless you are. “Ah, y-yeah. ‘S fine though, wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

“You’ve had your nose broken before?”

 

You snicker. “Couldn’t tell how ffffucked up my nose was when we first met?”

 

He shrugs. “I just thought that’s how you were born, I wasn’t going to make fun of you for it.”

 

“Well aren’t you a doll,” you mock, and it earns you a small laugh. “I’ve had my face bashed in more times than I can count. Always ended up fine before.”

 

He just looks at you. “That’s… terrible.”

 

“It is what it is, 2D.”

 

He nods, and you two stay quiet for a while. You drop your arm from his shoulder and lean you head back on the door, trying to quell the dizziness.

 

He’s the first to break the silence. “Can I tell you something?”

 

You reply with a shrug.

 

“I think Paula gave me the clap.”

 

You burst out into a long laugh, and he eventually joins you. “Alright, Dents, let’s get you to a doctor, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned 2D canonically got the clap before any other std so i knew i had to put it in my fic, i didn't have a choice
> 
> tumblr is : phasez-of-2doc!
> 
> <33


	13. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing their guitarist, the band needs to find a new one quickly.
> 
> CW: drug use

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote i love Noodle

Your room is cold enough for you to throw a blanket on yourself but you just can’t find the energy to find it. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re too numb to feel the chill. You let out a shaky sigh, taking a drag of your cigarette and blowing out rings of smoke. The tears stopped hours ago, but your chest still convulses with sobs.

 

You’ve spent the week sulking in your room, trying and failing to forget about Paula. Even after everything Murdoc told you, you just can’t get over her. You know that you deserve better. You know she never loved you. You know that you should stop falling in love so quickly.  _ If I know all these things, why does it still hurt? _

 

You snuff out your cig and roll over onto your stomach. Maybe if you press really hard, you could suffocate yourself in the pillows. You chuckle dryly at the thought of your own funeral. Other than your parents, who’d care? Certainly not your old friends who ditched you, certainly not Murdoc.

 

Just as you finish that thought, you hear a knock at the door. You make the effort to turn your head towards the door, but you don’t say anything. It doesn’t matter, Murdoc comes in uninvited anyway. You sigh and smother yourself in the pillow again. You’re really trying to forgive him, but you can’t even look at his face without anger festering in your stomach. It makes you feel guilty. You know it was her fault that they slept together, but you can’t make your heart believe that.

 

He sits down beside your legs. “How we feeling today, mate?”

 

You stay quiet. You don’t want him to know just how miserable you feel.

 

“You’ve got to stop moping, Dents, we’ve got a demo to finish.”

 

“Can’t finish it without a guitarist,” you reply, muffled.

 

“Sure we can, I know how to play.”

 

You turn your head. “You’re gonna do both?”

 

“I can do anything, love!” He barks out a small laugh.

 

You stuff your head back into the pillows to make sure that he can’t see your reddening face. You hate that he still makes you blush with stupid pet names. Makes you hate yourself more.

 

“What do you want?” you ask a little too harshly.

 

“Easy, mate, I just wanted to hang out with you, make sure you’re still alive.”

 

“Still alive.”

 

He sighs. “I, uh, brought something to help take your mind off of it.”

 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and turn fully towards him. “Like what?”

 

He grins and shows you his palm. In it, two joints sit. You scoff and look back up at him. “You really think that will solve anything?”

 

“Worth a try, isn’t it?”

 

You chuckle and grab one, lighting it with the lighter from your bedside table. Before the accidents, you only smoked weed if one of your mates had it on them. It was usually during those rare nights where your friend group would drive around the countryside instead of staying in someone’s house. Since the accidents, you haven’t had the chance. It just isn’t something you’d spend your money on, and your old friends never hung out with you.

 

Murdoc steals your lighter and lights his. You decide to sit up fully and pull your knees to your chest. He scoots back further on the bed to fill up the space you left. You squint your eyes at him but don’t complain. He just grins again and takes a hit.

 

You stay like that for a while, smoking in silence save for the occasional cough (usually from you). You hate to admit it, but you can feel your shoulders loosen and the emptiness start to slowly dissipate. Soon enough, you find yourself giggling over Murdoc’s impression of the Queen. It’s god awful, but you think that’s the point. After that, you try to teach Murdoc to French inhale, completely forgetting about his crushed nose and laughing at his expression as he concentrates. For the first time since Paula left, you feel better. Not okay, but better.

 

Murdoc finishes first, snuffing it out on his tongue, much to your wonder. 

 

“How did you do that without hurting yourself?” you ask.

 

“Magic,” he replies.

 

You giggle and lie down at an angle so you can stretch your legs out. “Didn’t peg ya for a magician.”

 

“I’d like to think of myself as an old wizard.”

 

“Yeah, you’re definitely old.”

 

“Shut it!” he hits your leg playfully, and you can’t stop laughing.

 

“You know,” you start after you’ve calmed down, “this really did help. Thanks, Murdoc.”

 

“Aw, my treat! Least I could do after, well, everything.”

 

Your smile drops and you feel that pit in your stomach again.

 

“Plus, it’s boring getting high alone,” he continues.

 

“Murdoc, what are we going to do now?”

 

He’s stunned. “What...What do you mean?”

 

“Just...everything. The band.” You look over at him. “Us.”

 

He stares hard at you. “What do you mean ‘us’?  I thought you were over it.”

 

You can feel the anger coming back despite the haze. “‘Over it?’ It hasn’t even been a week!”

 

He scoffs. “I’ve gotten over any random fling in a day, you could too.”

 

“It wasn’t a ‘random fling’, I loved her!” You’re shouting now.

 

“It was one month, Dents.”

 

You glare at him, shaking your head. “I don’t think you know what love is.”

 

He starts to laugh. “Of course I don’t, ‘love’ isn’t real!”

 

You’re so angry you’re nauseous, and you feel moments away from attacking him, but you force yourself to stop and think rationally. If Murdoc doesn’t know what love is, he can’t possibly know how badly he hurt you, right? You slowly calm down as you realize that Murdoc had assumed you treated Paula like a one night stand. Maybe he really didn’t mean to hurt you.

 

You take a deep breath before replying. “I know you don’t know how I felt about her, but I really cared for her, Murdoc. At least pretend to understand, yeah?”

 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. “Yeah, sure. We’ll never speak of it again.”

 

You nod. “Agreed.”

 

“So, ya forgive me then?”

 

“Oh, piss off,” you laugh. You don’t forgive him yet, but you still want to be friends. Maybe it’s just better to move on.

 

He stands up and looks down at you. “You wanna come upstairs? Help me find a new guitarist?”

 

Your sadness forgotten, you decide that it would be good for you to leave your room for a bit.“Yeah, I guess so. I need to get out of here.”

 

The two of you enter the lift to go upstairs. He leans back and rests his arms on the handrail, conveniently behind you. It’s getting hard to breathe. You can’t tell if it’s the weed or how close to you he is. You peer back at him, and he gives you a sly smile. You whip back around just as the door opens and keep your head down as you follow him to the “office”

 

The office is just a large room with a desk and Murdoc’s computer. There’s no other furniture, so it looks kind of  bare and unsettling. He sits at the desk and opens the browser to some random ad website. You stand awkwardly behind him as you watch him enter in the info for the ad. It reads, “GUITARIST NEEDED FOR BRAND NEW BAND. Must know guitar and not be a pussy. Inquire for details.” You scrunch up your face.

 

“That’s all it says? You don’t think they need to be more qualified or anything?”

 

“ _ You don’t think they need to be more qualified or anyfink?” _ he copies, mocking your accent.  “No, faceache, I think this is just fine.”

 

“No need to be a dick about it.” Your face reddens and you suddenly don’t want to be near him anymore. “F-forget this.” 

 

You scoff before turning and leaving the office. You intend on just going back to your room. You’re upset that you let him talk you into trying to be friends again, knowing that Murdoc doesn’t change. You’re about to press the button for the lift when the front doorbell rings. “Russ?” you call out, hoping he’s nearby. When he doesn’t answer and the doorbell rings again, you sigh and walk to the door, swinging it open. On the doorstep sits a very large box. It’s about neck high to you. You look around; no postman anywhere. You lean back into the house.

 

“Uh, Murdoc?” you shout.

 

He peeks his head out of the office. “Didn’t you leave? What do you want?”

 

“Did you order something?”

 

Curiosity peaked, he strides out and looks over your shoulder. “The fuck is that?” He turns and yells, “RUSSEL!”, who just so happens to be walking down the hall. “Did you order something? How did you get into my computer?”

 

“Wasn’t me,” Russel replies, joining the two of you in the doorway.

 

Suddenly, the box begins to shake and move. You let out an embarrassing squeak and jump behind Murdoc, who grumbles at you. He steps forwards and gives the box a swift kick. Something that sounds like a yelp comes from inside of it. He chuckles. 

 

“Well, fuck me, something is alive in there.”

 

He pulls out a flick knife from his pocket to cut open the tape sealing the box. Russel steps forward and tries to pull him back. 

 

“C’mon, man, what if it’s dangerous?” 

 

He manages to pull Murdoc away from the box but he’s already cut the tape. Just as they step back, the top part of the box bursts open. The two jump back from it while you hide behind the doorway. 

 

And out of the box comes…. A small girl in a weird helmet?

 

She lands in front of Murdoc, who actually looks terrified for once. She smiles up at him, before saying something that you don’t understand. You aren’t sure if it’s another language or if she’s just speaking too fast. Murdoc just looks back at you and Russ, confused. She shouts again, reaching back into the box on her tiptoes before pulling out a wicked looking guitar. She smiles back at the group before playing it. 

 

The sound that comes out of her guitar is indescribable. For someone so small, she plays as if she’s had a lifetime of training and experience. You find yourself smiling and headbanging along. Russ gives you a look, but you can’t help it; when you hear great music, you can’t stand still!

 

She finishes her solo by performing a well done jump kick, and screeching, “Noodle-ru!”

 

You’re the only one clapping and you step forward to kneel down in front of her. “That was brilliant!”

 

She doesn’t really seem to understand you, instead handing you a small card from her pocket. You have to squint to see the small, messy writing but manage to read, “October 31st, 1990. Japan.” 

 

“That’s today,” Russel observes.

 

You scratch your head. “It’s Halloween already?” A small twinge of sadness finds its way back to you. Usually, you’d spend Halloween with your parents, baking pumpkin shaped biscuits with your mum and watching your dad eat them all. It used to be such a lighthearted holiday for the family, and this year if your first without them. You wish you could just talk to your dad again without it being too awkward.

 

“Is that her birthday?” you hear Murdoc ask, snapping you out of your thoughts.

 

“That’d make her…” You count on your fingers. “Ten, yeah?”

 

“She’s eight, Dents. Christ, how many pills did you take today?”

 

You want to argue but you honestly can’t remember. You tend to pop a few more than usual on your worst days. That, mixed with the smoke session with Murdoc earlier, really has your head in the clouds.

 

The girl grabs your attention by tugging on your jumper sleeve. “Noodle-ru!” she shouts again.

 

“Noodle…?” you ask, to which she nods. “Is that your name?” She shrugs in response, making you laugh. You stand up fully to look at your bandmates. “Her name is Noodle!”

 

Russel rubs his temples. “Okay, but who does she belong to?”

 

Murdoc scoffs. “Isn’t mine, Dents is too young, and she’s clearly not yours.”

 

Russ shoots him a glare. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Oh, don’t get like that, you know she isn’t yours.” 

 

Russel clicks his tongue. “How do you know she isn’t yours, then?”

 

“Wasn’t in Japan in ‘90, mate. Or, at least, I didn’t shag some Oriental woman,” Murdoc chuckles.

 

“So…,” you start, turning back towards Noodle. “What do we do now?”

 

Murdoc steps forward to grab your shoulder. “Well, if that guitar solo was any sort of sign from beyond, I’d say that we’ve got our new guitarist!”

 

“Murdoc, you can’t be serious, we need to turn her into the police!” Russ interjects.

 

“Aw, c’mon now, Russ, I like her!” You lean back down and give her a friendly grin. “I’m 2D!”

 

She smiles back at you. “Too-chi!”

 

Your heart nearly explodes and you pull her into a hug. She laughs as you hold back tears. 

 

You can hear Russel sigh behind you. “No, you can’t be serious. Do you know how much trouble we can get in for harbouring a lost kid?”

 

“Settle down, Russ, we can figure out the legalities of it when we can afford lawyers. I’m not letting a guitar player like this go!” Murdoc replies. 

 

You let Noodle go. “Welcome to the band!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this would mark the end of Phase Zero! Phase 1 will start in the next chapter, things will continue to get more interesting.
> 
> Tumblr : phasez-of-2doc
> 
> <3


	14. Back to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorillaz have to practice for their upcoming gig.
> 
> CW: drug use, mention of sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm i think i'm gonna turn this fic into a comic one day

 

“Great! See you then!”

 

You end the call with “Janice” with a wide smile. Finally, after weeks of sending out your copy of “Ghost Train” and repeatedly calling venues almost to the point of harassment, you secured a spot at the Camden Brownhouse in London. Bit of a seedy place, but even greatness has to start somewhere, right? 

 

You head off to call a band meeting. Russel is resting on the settee, 2D is smoking on the balcony, and your new bandmate Noodle is rummaging through the refrigerator for a snack. You herd them all toward the studio for the meeting. They’re lined up against the back wall and you walk back and forth in front of them. Russel sighs, clearly annoyed, and speaks up first. 

 

“Alright, man, you gonna tell us what’s going on? I was taking a nap.”

 

“This is more important than a nap, Russ,” you reply, still smiling.

 

He raises an eyebrow but remains quiet. You love keeping them in suspense.

 

You stop pacing and clear your throat before speaking. “Gentlemen...and girl, I have some very exciting news for the fate of Gorillaz,” you begin, using the band’s new name. “I have landed us our first gig! And, if he keeps his word, some agent from EMI will be there to sign us if he likes what he hears.”

 

Noodle starts cheering, not really understand what you’ve said but feeding off your energy. 2D says nothing, stuck in a nervous smile. Russel, again, speaks first.

 

“Where? When is it?”

 

“Some pub in London, and Thursday.”

 

Russel raises his eyebrows again. “Thursday? Murdoc, are you crazy? How do you expect Noodle to learn the new songs fully before then?”

 

“Relax, she’s a musical genius! She learned the other songs just fine.” You and 2D have come up with a couple more songs since Noodle’s joining, but have never practised them. You figured, though, since Noodle just skimmed the music sheets before playing them perfectly, she’ll do just fine. “If you’re so concerned, then we should practise as much as we can handle these next couple days, yeah?”

 

Russel sighs before walking over to his drum set. Noodle gets the gist of what’s going on and excitedly grabs her guitar. 2D walks over to his stand, avoiding eye contact.

 

Even though you thought the two of you had talked it out, he’s been distant since Noodle arrived. It’s for the better, you suppose, since he channeled his anger into finally perfecting the vocals for “Punk”. In fact, he channeled so much anger that he kept rambling on for around an hour, screaming about this and that, while you and Russel exchanged looks but never quit playing. Afterwards, he stormed out of the studio and wasn’t heard from for the rest of the night. You should probably ask him about it, but honestly, you couldn’t be bothered.

 

You pass out the sheets for the new songs you and 2D wrote, “Tomorrow Comes Today” and “M1A1”. You barely remember writing them, but they seem solid. The band should’ve had time to practise on their own, but knowing them, they’ve done nothing but sit on their arses and lounge around. You walk over to the amp with your bass and signal for them to start with “Tomorrow Comes Today”. 

 

Surprisingly, it goes really well. Russel kills on the drums the way you imagined he would in your head,  Noodle picks it up as quickly as you expected she would, and 2D’s apathetic voice actually works well with the tone of the lyrics. “M1A1” goes well too, but 2D’s lost his fire from before, so it sounds sorta bland and flat. You’ll have to pester him about it more in the next few practises. 

 

The band plays for about an hour until you notice Noodle yawning. Russel stops immediately and picks her up, telling you that he’s gonna go tuck her in. You roll your eyes but nod at him, briefly looking over at Dents before deciding that you need a drink.

 

~~~~~

 

You curse as you try to light your cigarette for the fifth time, but of course the wind blows out the flame of your lighter before you even get close. As much as you love the newly-named Kong Studios (a little pun you came up with), it’s too high up on the hill, so it’s always windy. You could always just go to your room, but Russ has been on your case about smoking in the same house as the kid, and you’re too stubborn to abandon your mission of lighting this fucking cigarette despite the wind. You give it another go, with the same results as before. In a fit of rage, you turn around and throw your lighter in the direction of the balcony door, where 2D barely manages to duck and avoid it. He stands back up to look at you with wide eyes. 

 

“Oh, didn’t see you there, Dents,” you say, casually.

 

He doesn’t say anything and just walks over to the railing. He pulls out his pack of fags and his lighter, and to your dismay, lights it up immediately. You scowl at him, which he notices. “What did I do now?”

 

“How the fuck did you do that?” you bark at him.

 

“Do… what?” he asks shyly.

 

“Light that! Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get some fucking nicotine in my system?”

 

He bites his lip as well as he can and walks over to you. “Let me, then.”

 

You pause before you place your cigarette back in your mouth and turn towards him. He steps closer to you and holds the lighter up, shielding it from the wind. You’re so transfixed on the way his concentrated face looks in the glow of the lighter that you almost forget to inhale. Must be getting real old if you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

 

2D steps back with an uncomfortable cough. You don’t thank him, but you give him a nod. The two of you stand side by side and enjoying your fags in peace. You decide this is a perfect time to ask him the things that have been on your mind recently.

 

“Hey, faceache, what’s been going on with you lately?”

 

The shift in his eyebrows and the barely visible red pupil tell you that he’s glancing over at you from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

 

“You know, uh, distant, and that. I thought we talked it out.”

 

He sighs and leans over the railing, hair whipping around in the wind. “It’s just...everytime I try to forgive you, you do something, or-or say something, and you really piss me off sometimes, and then that reminds me of how much you b-being with her pissed me off, and-and I j-just..” he trails off, on the verge of sobbing. He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I want to forgive you Murdoc, I really do. You’re my best mate. I want this band to take off. It’s just hard right now.”

 

You groan internally and kick your Cuban boot on the ground a few times. You hate these types of conversations. “2D, I-I know you’re stressed, and I know it’s my fault, but you’ve got to pull yourself together, mate. We’ve only got one more day til showtime, we can’t have you breaking down on stage!”

 

He nods and straightens up. “I know. I know. I’m working on it.”

 

You finish your cigarette and flick it off the balcony. 2D’s sullen face gives you a stupid idea. 

 

“If I watch one of your stupid zombie movies with you, can you get over it?”

 

He smiles impossibly wide before flinging his arms around you in a hug. “Would you really? Murdoc, thank you!”

 

You flinch and shove him off. “Get off! Don’t push your luck Dents. Get your arse downstairs, I’ll meet you in a moment.”

 

He doesn't seem to mind the rough shove, giving you another wide smile as he flicks his fag off the railing and trots inside. You rub your arms where this hands were and feel the way your skin is crawling under your fingertips. This is a horrible idea.

 

After a few more moments of blissful silence, you head inside and walk down the stairs. 2D has already loaded the VHS into the player and is sitting cross-legged on the settee, waiting for you like you “asked”.  _ He’s like a puppy, _ you note. You plod over to him and sit down on the other side of the settee. He looks over at you with a grin and presses play on the remote.

 

“Thanks for doing this for me, Murdoc. You know, you can actually be sweet when you want.”

 

You groan, your stomach turning. “I just want to make sure you aren’t in a shitty mood for the show tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah… about that,” he starts, “I’m really nervous about performing. What if I muck it up?”

 

“Well, then I’d have no choice but to kill you!” You bust out laughing, but he stays quiet. “Oh lighten up, Dents, you’ve performed before, this isn’t much different.”

 

“That was a small singing competition, it wasn’t anything special!” He sighs. “I was nervous for that one too.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll be fine,” you mumble as the movie starts. He looks disappointed but turns towards the TV too. You have no clue what he’s put in, but you don’t have to wonder long, because soon he’s rambling on and on about zombies and soldiers and some bloke named George Romero. You groan and try to tune him out. This is the reason you don’t watch movies with him. The first time you watched a movie together you thought his habit of talking too much was because he was drunk, but when you watched a movie sober he continued to drill a hole straight into your brain with his voice. It’s like your worst version of Hell.

 

You notice that you’ve fully zoned out when he pokes your arm. His touch is like an electric bolt running up to your shoulder. 

 

“What?!” you shout at him, unintentionally.

 

He cringes away. “I… I just wanted to tell you that I think this part of the movie would be good for ‘M1A1’.”

 

You turn your attention back to the movie where you see two men wander an abandoned street and trying to find other people. They’re constantly shouting  _ “hello, is anyone there?”  _ and the music feels eerie. You realize that 2D is right; this would be absolutely perfect for the tone of  “M1A1”. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, we could put it at the beginning and have my bass slowly fade in, see?” you reply.

 

2D starts to smile. “Exactly! It could be like our intro, yeah?” he suggests.

 

“Yeah, that'd be pretty fucking rock'n'roll, wouldn't it? Good job, Dents.” 

 

From the corner of your eyes, you can see the way the praise makes him blush. You snicker to yourself. The kid is too easy to please.

 

Around twenty minutes into the movie, you get bored of watching dull dialogue and zombie shooting, so you get up to go to your room. 2D looks confused, but you hold up a finger to tell him to “wait”. Your rifle through the shit scattered on your bed until you find the small black box you were looking for. You take out the joint you were saving for later tonight, deciding you need it more right now. Back downstairs, 2D gives you a look but doesn’t stay anything as you light it and take a few hits. You offer it over to him, and he accepts with a sigh. You carry on like that for a little bit, _really_ starting to enjoy the movie, until you hear Russel clear his throat behind you.

 

“What did I say about smoking in the house?” he asks, arms folded like an angry mother.

 

2D giggles, and you just give him a mocking look. “I can’t recall,  _ mum _ , what did you say?”

 

2D then breaks out into a full blown laughing fit, and you join him, nearly dropping the lit joint onto the settee. Russel sighs and snatches it from your hand. “You’re going to burn the whole damn house down, man!” He sighs again before taking a drag himself and handing it back to you. 

 

“Do you want to watch this with us, Russ?” 2D questions through his laughter.

 

“Nah, I’m not into this zombie shit,” he answers. He then walks away, presumably going to the kitchen. You snicker at him behind his back.

 

Towards the end of the movie, you notice 2D moving restlessly, clenching and unclenching his hands. He keeps looking at you, not knowing that you can tell. You don’t say anything, but you pause the movie and wait for him to start.

 

“Murdoc… I think I can tell you why I’ve been different lately.”

 

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? I thought we already talked about it.”

 

“No, no, I was, uh, not telling you everything.”

 

“Well, spit it out then.”

 

He hesitates. “I-I found someone.”

 

You turn your full upper body towards him, suddenly very interested. “Really? Tell me about him.”

 

He chuckles. “No, a girl. Her name is Rachel. I met her couple days ago when I went shopping with Russ.”

 

“When did you go shopping with Russ?”

 

“When you were too hungover to get out of bed to go with us,” he laughs. He clears his throat before continuing. “I didn’t want to tell you about her because… I didn’t want you to know. But-but that’s unfair of me. I invited her to our gig, so you’ll meet her anyway.”

 

You’re speechless for a moment. “Well...uh...thanks for letting me know, 2D. But, isn’t it too early after Paula?”

 

He winces at her name. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

 

You laugh. “Of course not! The best way to get over someone is to get with someone else, yeah? I’m proud of you!”

 

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Murdoc. She’s a really nice girl. She’s trying to start her own band with a few of her friends too! Isn’t that weird?”

 

“Quite weird, yeah. Is it even weirder calling out your own mother’s name during a shag?”

 

He flushes bright red. “H-haven’t gone that f-far.” You snigger but don’t respond.

 

You should feel more excited about Dents finally getting over Paula. After all, that means he’s finally getting over whatever drama he thinks he has with you. But as he goes on and on about Rachel, it’s hard to ignore the pit in your stomach. You aren’t sure what, but every internal alarm in you is going off, trying to warn you about something. Like most everything else that pops into your head, you ignore it.

 

However, you continue to think about it, all through the rest of the movie, all through the rest of the evening, and all through the restless night as you try to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is phazes-of-2doc!


	15. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorillaz perform at their first gig.
> 
> CW: vomit, violence, mild sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late upload, my friends tried to teach me the American tradition of "Black Friday " and we got carried away.

 

You tune El Diablo more, probably a bit excessively.  You know that it probably sounds fine, but you’re really trying to make it perfect for the show. After all, first impressions are everything. You hope Whiffy Smiffy actually shows up like he promised. 

 

You barely manage to catch Noodle as she trips over the various wires running all over the ground. She says what you assume is a thanks before continuing to sprint around.

 

“Russ, calm her down, will you?” you plead.

 

“She’s just excited, man. She’s a kid, she has way more energy than us,” he replies, not looking up from his drum set. “She’ll burn out after the show, I’m sure.” He then pauses, looking up at you. “And stop tuning your bass, it sounds great.”

 

You strum it a bit just to bother him before setting the bass down and standing up to stretch. You peer over at 2D, who’s got himself in the corner, shaking and wringing his hands. He looks paler than normal. You walk over to him and touch his shoulder, which seems to jolt him back to reality.

 

“You alright, dullard?” you ask with little actual concern.

 

He shakes his head. “I-I-I th-think I’m going to be s-sick,” he stutters before pushing past you and out of backstage to the bathrooms. 

 

You groan and turn to follow him. “Don’t start yet!” you yell to Russ, who gives you a thumbs up.

 

You follow the direction Dents was going until you hear the retching. He’s in the dingy restroom as expected, but he left the door open. You slide in behind him and pat his back. “There, there, get out all those nerves. “

 

He coughs. “I don’t think I can do this.”

 

“Don’t wimp out on me now, 2D, I already went through the trouble of booking the place.” 

 

“Sorry, Murdoc. My stomach just keeps rolling…” He proves his point by heaving again.

You grimace and rub his back again. You’re usually not this “helpful”. But, by Satan, you are going to get him to stage.

 

“You’re just nervous, mate. It’ll all go away once you start singing. Everyone gets a little queasy before their first show!”

 

He sputters a while longer before standing up and nodding, wiping his mouth with a piece of tissue. “I’ll be alright,” he says with a croaky voice. “I threw up last time too.” He laughs weakly before walking back to backstage area.

 

“Yeah, well, drink some water so you can sing right, yeah?” you call after him.

 

The two of you enter backstage, where Russel looks furious. “Where the fuck were you? They almost cancelled us!”

 

“Dents had a bit of an accident, everything is fine now,” you reply, grabbing El Diablo and lining up to go on stage. “Right, 2D?”

 

“Y-yeah, right,” he replies, still looking green. 

 

You sigh. “You better not puke on stage, I swear to Satan.” 

 

He nods. You see a man beckon you on stage. “Here we go, lads!” you call out, adrenaline already pumping through your veins. You never felt more alive than when you’re on stage. The four of you head up and take your spots, Russel in back with his drums, Noodle to the right, you to the left. And up front in your singer, who’s shaking so hard that the vibrations are picking up on the mic. 

 

The crowd isn’t as big as you had hoped for. It looks to be maybe around thirty people or so, and most of them are too busy drinking to even notice someone up on stage. You walk up and steal the mic away from 2D, who looks close to fainting.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the greatest band to ever hit your pathetic eardrums!” You look over at 2D, who smiles remembering the first time the two of you ever hung out, where you said the exact same thing. “We are Gorillaz!”

 

You hear a few coughs and maybe three people clap, but it’s good enough for you. You signal for Russ to start “Tomorrow Comes Today”. You glance over at 2D, who still appears to be nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he misses his cue. You sigh and nod at Russ to keep going before walking over to him. You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it too firm of a squeeze. He looks back at you, giving you a small smile and a nod. He waits for his cue again, and finally starts the song. 

 

_ Everybody’s here with me, _

_ We’ve got no camera to see, _

_ Don’t think I’m all in this world,  _

_ The camera won’t let me go _

 

He’s shaky, but the vocals sound as good as ever. You step back and watch the rest of the show, playing El Diablo with all the passion you could put into it. People start taking note of the band, actually dancing and clapping along. By the time you get to “Punk”, though, the crowd gets… rowdier. It starts with one excitable fellow accidentally spilling his brew on a bigger bloke in front of him, and from there escalates into a full on brawl. 2D tries to keep singing, but when a chair gets thrown onstage, the bouncer ushers you away. At that point, you hear what sounds like a gunshot. 2D manages to get out, “Uh, thank you so much!” before having to abandon the mic.

 

Backstage, it’s a whirlwind of activity. The staff tries to diffuse the situation next door while the band celebrates. 2D is practically vibrating with energy, giving you a dopey smile.

 

“You see that? They loved my voice!” he exclaims.

 

You chuckle. “What did I tell ya?”

 

He laughs, and you join in, closing your eyes and finally being able to enjoy the feeling of success.

 

And then you feel warmth snaking around your neck and a pressure on your mouth. 

 

Your eyes fly open at a jolt that makes your skin feel like it’s crawling and you shove him away a little too roughly, knocking him to the ground. He looks up at you with wide eyes. “Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he whimpers.

 

You look around. No one has seem to noticed since you’re in an adjacent hallway. You sigh and rub your temples. “It’s fine, Dents, let’s just not talk about it, yeah?”

 

He nods and forces himself to stand, walking off briskly. You pace for a short minute, trying to forget the electricity surging on your lips. What the fuck is wrong with you?

 

Russ interrupts you, peeking his head into the hallway. “Hey, uh, some guy wants to talk to you.”

 

You welcome the distraction. “Perfect, Russ, lead the way.”

 

He leads you to a smartly dressed man who was trying to chat with Noodle. It seems he knows a few words in Japanese, but she talks too fast for him. He notices you and extends his hand. “Whiffy Smiffy, talent search for EMI. Are you the founder of this band?”

 

You pause before taking his hand and shaking it firmly. “Yeah, Murdoc Niccals. What can I do for you?”

 

He chuckles. “Well, for one, you could sign with us!”

 

You hear 2D pipe up from behind you. “Really?!”

 

“We love your sound! The vibe, the lyrics. I really think you guys could be the future of music!”

 

The band members make various sounds of approval and celebration. You don’t think you have any choice but to agree to sign. This could be it! 

 

_ Fuck you, dad! Told you I’d make it. _

 

“Fuck yeah, let’s do it!”

 

Smiffy chuckles. “Great! Glad to have you aboard! Now, it’s a bit of an EMI tradition to throw a new signer a bit of a celebration. We can schedule it for tomorrow, if you’d like.”

 

“Sounds good!”

 

“Brilliant, see you then.” He hands you a small card, you suppose it’s his business card. “We’ll be in touch. Congrats again.” With that, he walks out the door.

 

You turn to the rest of your band. “Alright, lads, we did it!”

 

“Congrats, man, I honestly didn’t think we’d take off,” Russel replies.

 

You glare at him before hearing a shriek coming from behind you. You turn around a notice a young woman with long brown hair running towards 2D and giving him a hug. “Good job, babe, you did so well!”

 

2D returns the hug with a small chuckle. “Thanks, love, I was really nervous.”

 

“Yeah, you looked like you might’ve fainted!” she laughs. 

 

“I nearly did.” He laughs along with her, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

 

You feel a flash of red go through your brain, and you get the sudden urge to smack the shit out of Dents. You ball your fists at your sides as they say their farewells before she leaves. You give you a strained, cocky smile as she walks out of the door. You turn back towards 2D, clearing your throat. “That her, then?”

 

Russel gives you a funny look. “You haven’t met Rachel yet?”

 

You turn towards him. “You have? What the fuck, Dents, I thought we were mates?”

 

2D looks down. “I told you yesterday why I didn’t...I’m sorry.”

 

You walk over to him, giving him a hearty smack upside the head before walking outside to smoke. You don’t look back.

  
  
  


~~~~~

 

He’s got a hand on her thigh, inching up as he whispers something in her ear. She laughs as she sips her brightly coloured cocktail, twirling a piece of his hair around her little finger. He moves from her ear to her neck, pressing soft kisses along her jawline. Her eyes slip closed and she whispers something to him that makes him smile around the kisses. He leans back to look at her to respond before leaning in for a snogging session.

 

You down another shot of horrible vodka watching them, fueling the fire burning in your stomach. You grip the counter of the bar to avoid chucking the shot glass across the room at 2D’s face. This is so unprofessional of him. EMI was so generous to throw this amazing signing party for Gorillaz, and instead of socializing with the managers, he’s pissing his evening away in the very back corner of the VIP booth, too busy with his whore of a girlfriend to do his fucking job.

 

This is just how it was like with Paula. He’s acting too much like a lovesick ponce to focus on the band. This isn’t healthy for him, or for Gorillaz. You need to put an end to this, permanently **.** You know just the way.

 

You push yourself off the bar and stomp over to them, tapping Dents harshly on the arm. He separates himself from Rachel, looking up at you with a scared expression. You give him the sweetest smile you can manage.

 

“2D, a man at the bar wants to talk to you about your vocal range,” you lie.

 

He looks between you can Rachel. “Uh-uh, I don’t really-”

 

You grip his arm tight and yank him out of his seat. He gasps and tries to yank his arm away to no avail. “I think you should go talk to him, Dents,” you spit out, dropping the friendly act. He nods at you with wide eyes, mouthing an apology to Rachel before walking off.

 

You sigh and sit yourself down where he was sitting. Rachel looks at you with disgust. “What do you want?”

 

“Oh, love, can’t I just sit and have a nice chat with you?” you croon, giving her a sly smile. She doesn’t return it.

 

She scoffs and takes another drink of her cocktail. “We were trying to have a good night, you know.”

 

You chuckle darkly as you run a finger up and down her thigh. “Sure, but I could show you a better night, if you wanted me to.”

 

She slaps your hand away but makes no movement to move away from you. She stares ahead at Dents, who’s trying to find whatever imaginary man you mentioned. “He told he about Paula, you know. That was an awful thing for you to do to him.”

 

You snort. “Isn’t it taboo to talk about your exes?”

 

“I asked him. He talks about you a lot.”

 

Your feel your heart skip a beat for a moment.  _ Must be getting old, heart’s going out _ . “Oh really? Well, I  _ am  _ sort of an idol to him, I suppose.”

 

She shakes her head. “No, I think it’s more than that.”

 

You steal her drink from her and take a hearty gulp. It’s stronger than you expected it to be. She doesn’t protest. “What do you mean?”

 

“I think you know.”

 

You really don’t know what she means, but before you can ask, she stands up and walks to 2D. She taps his shoulder and whispers something in his ear. It seems to upset him, judging by the way his brow furrows and the way he gestures with his hands. She shakes her head and walks out of the club, leaving him lost on the dance floor. He looks towards you, eyes full of tears, before storming out of the club as well. You stay seated, drinking the rest of the horrible cocktail. It does nothing to settle the unusual churning in your stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damon gets sick before shows so I thought I'd make 2D the same
> 
> Tumblr is phasez-of-2doc <3


	16. Broken Hearts Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D is still recovering from his break-up.
> 
> CW: emotional turmoil, mention of drug use, mild sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell this is a vent fic yet?

You watch the smoke twirl around in the air above your head as you let it leak out of your mouth. The fluid motions have always calmed you down when you needed it to the most. Something about just how random but beautiful the smoke curls and evaporates, makes you feel that even though life is random and harsh, it’s beautiful, and the pain will always fade. Or maybe you just took too many pills again.

 

You snuff the fag on your skinny jeans, not minding the slight burn on your leg. You flick the butt off into the corner of the room to join the many others before reaching for your pack. However, to your disappointment, you find it empty. Your already raw emotions boil over again as you scream and throw the pack against the wall. You can’t help but to break down for the eighth time tonight, bowing your head in your hands and trying to cry, even though you’ve been tapped out for hours.

 

You thought you and Rachel were having a good night. Where did it go wrong?

 

_ You wander around the bar area, looking for this “man” that Murdoc hadn’t even bothered to describe. You walk up to random people, asking if they wanted to talk to you, but so far all you’ve gotten is confused and disgusted stares. You’re about to give up before Rachel walks up to you and taps your shoulder. _

 

_ You smile at her, wanting to pull her in for a kiss but she stops you. _

 

_ “2D, we need to go our separate ways,” she says bluntly. _

 

_ Your smile drops, as does your heart. “Wh-what? Why?” _

 

_ She glances over at the table you were sitting at before, where Murdoc is casually drinking a cocktail that looks very similar to the one Rachel had earlier. She clears her throat before continuing, “We both know this isn’t going anywhere, sweetheart. We both want different things in life.” _

 

_ Your anger starts to flare up as memories of your breakup with Paula flash in your mind. “Is it because of him? Are you saying you want Murdoc?” _

 

_ She chuckles before replying, “No, love, in fact I think you got it backwards. Just believe me, it’ll work out eventually.” She then turns and strides out the door without another word. _

 

_ You look back at Murdoc, who’s drinking his cocktail with an unreadable look on his face. You can’t tell if he’s smug or sad for you. You can feel yourself crying, but you don’t think it’s from sadness. You storm towards the door, hoping to be able to catch Rachel and talk. When you make it outside, though, she’s nowhere to be found. _

 

_ You pant and grip at your hair as a surge of panic rushes through your body. You’re confused and hurt and so many things at once that you can’t even think straight. You lean back against the brick wall of the club and slide down it, pulling your knees up to your chest. You don’t even care that people are staring at you as you sob uncontrollably.  _

 

 _Why would she do this? Why was she laughing?_ _What did she mean by “I think you got it backwards?” Why doesn’t she care?_

 

_ You know the answer to that one, at least. She didn’t like you as much as you liked her, just like Paula. A second heartbreak in less than a month. This is your fault for falling in love again. Maybe you’re better off alone. _

 

_ You hear footsteps approach you. You turn and see Russel and Noodle walking towards you with concern written all over their faces. Russel sits beside you, grunting as he lands on the ground with a thud. Noodle stands in front of you, unsure what to do. _

 

_ “What happened in there, D?” he asks softly. _

 

_ You’ve stopped crying long enough to talk semi-clearly. “Rachel wants nothing to do with me, anymore. ‘S my fault, really.” _

 

_ “Now, why would you say that? From what I saw, you two seemed to be getting along just fine.” _

 

 _You scoff. “I don’t know what happened. She said she wanted to break up. And she_ laughed _Russel!” You start crying again. “She laughed at me!”_

 

_ You put your head back between your knees and break down again. Noodle pets your hair in an attempt to sooth you. Russel rubs your back in silence until you calm down a bit more before tugging at you to stand. “C’mon, let’s just get you home. I’ll go find Murdoc and we can leave.” _

 

_ You totally forgot about Murdoc, the very name forming a pit in your stomach. She was talking to him. The sadness melts away to anger. _

 

_ You jump to your feet, shaking your head. “No. He did something. He was a part of this.” You look at Russel. “He can stay here as long as he likes.” _

 

_ Russel sighs but doesn’t say anything, nodding. He picks up Noodle and carries her on his shoulders as the three of you walk to find a cab. _

 

That was last night, and since then you haven’t come out of your room. It’s just like Paula all over again. You’re heartbroken, lost, angry… To be frank, you’re a bit of a mess right now. And honestly, you don’t give a damn.

 

You’re still sitting on the bed with your head low when you hear your door opening. Judging by the sounds of sharp heels hitting the floor, you make a pretty good guess as to who it is. You sigh, looking up at Murdoc. He looks almost worried, but more annoyed than anything.

 

“You coming to eat? Russ got takeaway from that pizza place down the road. Half cheese, for you and Noodle.”

 

Despite everything that just happened, you still feel a small flutter in your chest through the sobbing pains. He remembers your favourite kind of pizza. Still, you shake your head.

 

“Not hungry.”

 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before walking to the other side of the bed and sitting down. You glare at him.

 

“What?” he asks, staring back at you.

 

“What did you say to her?” you respond, your voice surprisingly cold.

 

He squints his eyes at you. “What’re you going on about?”

 

Your anger comes back tenfold. “Oh, don’t play that with me Murdoc! I know you said something to her, she looked over at you before she broke up with me!” you yell, standing up from the bed and pacing in front of him. “For God’s sake, she even mentioned you  _ while _ she was breaking up with me!”

 

He chuckles at you. “Take it easy, Dents. I didn’t tell her to leave you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

You stop pacing to look at him. “You… didn't?”

 

“No, you git, I just asked if she wanted to go home with me.”

 

The anger is back. “You  **what** ?!”

 

He throws his hands up in defense. “Whoa! She didn’t agree, she just started talking some bullshit about Paula and the way I treat you.” He then leans back on his arms, grinning. “She said you talk about me a lot, eh?”

 

You begin to blush as you process that information. She didn’t leave you for him, and she told him about those late night chats the two of you had while you were sloshed? That’s really embarrassing.

 

“What else did she say?” you ask softly.

 

He snorts. “I don’t know, she got all cryptic after that. Then she left and walked up to you.”

 

You walk slowly to the edge of the bed and sit down beside him. You scratch the back of your head and look down. You don’t think you could look at him right now.

 

“So, you didn’t do it this time?”

 

“Course not, I told you last time I wouldn’t fuck your girlfriends again.”

 

You look over at him, squinting. “But you tried to?”

 

He laughs uncomfortably, a hand going through his hair again. “Yeah, well, the dick wants what the dick wants right? But she didn’t go for it, so this one wasn’t my fault.”

 

You nod, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry, Murdoc. I’ve been so upset over last night that I didn’t even think to ask. I just…hated you for no reason.”

 

You feel his hand on your shoulder. The warmth from it spreads to your cheeks. “Ah, don’t cry over it, Dents. You have every right not to trust me.”

 

You look at him again. “I trust you.”

 

His mismatched eyes meets yours and you nearly cringe into yourself. Having direct eye contact with someone has been weird since the accidents. His hand is still on your shoulder. 

 

“Why?”

 

He asks the question so quietly you nearly don’t hear him. If you didn’t watch his mouth move, you might’ve missed it entirely. His eyes are searching for something, but you don’t know what. When you focus in on them, they’re bloodshot, so he’s definitely high, but you guess you are too. You should really get a grip on that.

 

“W-well,” you start, but you can’t finish. Truth is, you don’t know why you trust Murdoc. Given everything, you should be afraid of him. 

 

The only thing that scares you is that you _aren’t_ scared of him.

 

You don’t notice that you’ve zoned out until he snaps his fingers right in front of your face. You jump, startled. You also note how close to you he’s gotten, that fact making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You hope he doesn’t notice your blush that you feel creeping up your ears.

 

Of course, with the way that evil little grin on his face widens, he’s noticed. You realize he knows about you. About how you feel around him.

 

He leans in closer as you feel a hand creep up your neck, resting on the back of your head. You shudder involuntarily, immediately embarrassed at being so sensitive. He chuckles, and you feel his warm breath on your nose. You close your eyes and prepare for contact.

 

Nothing happens.

 

You open your eyes, and he’s mere centimeters away from your face, grinning like a madman and staring you down like he’s looking at a steak. You’re slow to realize that he isn’t going to move any closer. He’s making you be the one to make the first move.

 

You’re hesitant. After what happened at the show, you never thought he would be willing to kiss you again. After all, he threw you to the floor in what you thought was disgust. At least, you were disgusted with how forward you were. All while having a girlfriend, nonetheless!

 

Rachel…oh, maybe you aren’t as loyal as you thought. Maybe she had a solid reason for dumping you.  

 

An annoyed grunt bring you back to reality yet again. Murdoc looks impatient, so you throw all of your disruptive thoughts and feelings aside, grab two handfuls of his shirt, and pull him to you to  _ finally  _ connect your lips.

 

You’re not surprised to find out that his lips are super chapped, like almost  _ too  _ chapped. He should really drink more water. You don’t have time to focus on that, however, because now you feel that devilish tongue is running along your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. You gasp quietly, which gives him plenty of time to go ahead and ram his tongue into your mouth, and suddenly you find yourself on the losing side of a snogging battle. You feel his other hand grip your hip, the one in your hair beginning to tug in an not-so-unpleasant way. You struggle to contain the moan bubbling up in your chest, just barely managing to hold it down. You feel your self control slipping. All you want to do is climb in his lap, take off your shirt, and --

Your dirty thoughts are interrupted by the tugging on your hair going past the threshold of pleasure into pain. You break away from the kiss, whining, and suddenly you’re being thrown onto the floor again. You feel pain explode from your bottom and you cry out. You look up at Murdoc, who’s now off of the bed and kneeling before you. He looks into your eyes with the same intensity and grin from before. He leans in close enough for your noses to touch as he runs his long fingernail along your jawline. The shudder that rushes through your momentarily makes you forget about the pain coming from your backside. 

 

Into your ear, he whispers ( **_growls_ ** ), “ **You shouldn’t trust me, Two-Dents** .”

 

With that, he promptly gets up and struts out of your room, leaving you with a bruised tailbone and a raging hard-on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Tumblr: phazes-of-2doc


	17. Bah Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band decide to watch the lighting of the Christmas tree on Oxford Street, but Murdoc just isn't having it.
> 
> CW: alcohol, mild panic attack, violence, mild sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't slept and I have class in an hour, what is my life.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END!

Smoking has always been one of your favourite pastimes, but it tastes even better in your very own Winnebago. Since forming the band, moments of peace have been few and far between, with Russel’s little ghost mate scaring the shit out of you while you’re having a piss (you wish you would’ve learned more about his possession when you were “researching” him), Noodle running up and down the halls screaming bloody murder in her native language (that you personally think is the most annoying language known to man), and 2D constantly hanging around you all day like a lost puppy (which, admittedly, is better than him moping in his room all day, but you’re starting to lose your sodding mind.)

 

Things between the two of you have been… interesting… to say the least. Since your little,  _ ahem,  _ meeting in his bedroom a month ago, 2D has been in a much better mood. He seems to have forgotten all the drama with his past girlfriends, instead finally putting all his efforts into the band. He’s even written some songs all by himself. You’ll never admit it to him, but he’s a talented musician. 

 

Speaking of the angel, there’s a knock on your door. You exhale smoke around your smile and heave yourself off the bed to answer the door. As expected, he’s standing there, fiddling with his fingers. He looks up at you and smiles.

 

“Hey, Murdoc. Can I come in?”

 

You step out of the way to make room for him, closing the door behind him. You grab your bottle of vodka from the shelf near the front. When you turn back around, he’s already sitting cross-legged on your bed. Does the boy not respect personal space? You snicker to yourself and join him.

 

He raises the shot glass he found on the floor for you to fill. “So, how you liking it?” 

 

You assume he’s talking about the Winnie. “Ah, feels great! Don’t think I’ll ever go back to my old room, to be honest.”

 

He nods while knocking back the shot, grimacing afterwards. You pour one for yourself.

 

“Doesn’t it creep you out to be near that freaky old bunker? Came up here the other night and I swear I heard someone groaning in there.”

 

“Nah, doesn’t bother me none. I dare someone to try to fuck with me.”

 

He laughs before downing another shot and setting his glass on the bed beside him. “Right, so the song?”

 

“Ah, yes, yes, hold on, let me find my journal.” The two have you have started a little tradition of getting absolutely plastered and writing songs recently. You’re currently working on one that 2D came up with, titled “Give Up”, although you’ll probably change it soon. It’s a depressing one, but it isn’t half bad, and you think it’s healthy for Dents to write out his feelings so he won’t bottle them. You know how  _ that _ goes down.

 

You find your journal under a pile of trousers and open it up. It’s mostly filled with drunk scribbles and doodles but there’s some actual lyrics in there. 2D peeks over your shoulder and giggles quietly at your drawings.

 

“Not much of an artist, huh?”

 

“Shut it, I only doodle when I’m sloshed,” you growl back. He chuckles nervously and backs off.

 

The two of you sit in peace for a while and smoke. He sings along to your bass lines as you try to find the perfect one for a song. It’s becoming a bit of a frustrating night as you struggle and struggle for what seems like hours. 2D notices your tension and cocks his head at you.

 

“What’s up?”

 

You groan, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands. “Everything sounds wrong.”

 

His face falls a tick. “I’m sorry, I don’t sing so good when I’m tipsy.”

 

You shake your head at him. “Not your singing, I can’t find the right tune. Your singing sounds bang on as always.”

 

He quickly looks down as a blush creeps up his ears. “Thank you…” he says shyly.

 

You roll your eyes. He’s so obvious, it’s almost sad. The two of you haven’t talked about the night in his bedroom, but clearly he’s not over it, always waiting for another taste. You don’t even remember why you kissed him, probably something drunk-you thought would’ve been a fun end to the night. You’ve known that he’s wanted to be with you for a long time, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind shagging him one of these days. He’s definitely attractive. It’s just… weird. He’s 2D, your pretty but annoying singer, your charge, your friend(?). You don’t know what’ll happen if you take it beyond that.

 

But, Satan, the way he bites his lip and looks so innocently at you sends a shock of want right through you. You know it’s not intentional, but he really isn’t making this easy on you.

 

“Murdoc?”

 

He snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re a bit embarrassed when you realize that you’ve been staring at his lips the whole time. He smiles slightly, his face even more flushed. “What’cha staring at?”

 

You reach behind you for the bottle of vodka, taking a hearty swig and setting it back down. You need to get this shit under control. “Nothing, Dents, let’s just keep going.”

  
  


~~~~~

 

“Can we go see the lights this year?” you hear 2D shout from the sofa.

 

You roll your eyes as Russ answers, “Yeah, I think Noodle would like them.”

 

Noodle perks up at the mention of her name, and you chuckle at her. “Do you want to go see the Christmas lights, poppet?”

 

She nods and gives you a high pitched “ _ hai!” _ , which you’ve learned means “yes”. Russel has been trying his best to teach her English, and while she can’t speak more than a few words, she’s starting to understand a bit more. 

 

“Do you know when they are?” Russel asks.

 

“Uh, next week, innit?” 2D guesses. 

 

“Yeah that sounds about right,” Russel replies.

 

“We’re really gonna drive a couple hours away to see some shoddy lights?” you complain.

 

“You’re just mad because you’re a Satanist,” 2D responds.

 

“Didn’t like Christmas much before I sold my soul, dullard.” While you don’t think you’ve ever been Christian, you didn’t enjoy Christmas even with Christ. In fact, you can’t remember a year where you had a good Christmas. In your home, holidays weren’t anything special beyond carrying your drunk of a father home from the pub later in the night. You frown at the memory of the one year where he vomited down the back of your ratty coat and you had to walk the rest of the way home feeling the mush slide down your back. You snap yourself out of your precious childhood memories when you notice Russel staring. “None of us are exactly ‘Christians’ anyway.”

 

“C’mon, Murdoc, it’s our first Christmas all together!” 2D begs.

  
  


“We aren’t a family, Dents, we’re bandmates. We just live together because none of us have a place to go to anymore.”

 

“That’s not true,” he says, unsure.

 

You snort. “Oh really? You’re gonna go back to your parents’ house? When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

 

His face falls and he curls himself into his blanket more. You’ve clearly struck a sensitive chord and a pang of guilt rises in your gut. You wash it down with another gulp of beer.

 

Russel delivers a hearty smack to the back of your head. You let out quite an embarrassing yelp, rubbing the tender area before turning to look at him. “The fuck was that for!”

 

He curls his lip up at you. “Man, that wasn’t a cool thing for you to say. Apologize!”

 

You scoff at him, downing the rest of the bottle before throwing it towards the bin, missing by a long shot. You turn to leave as you hear the bottle splinter all over the front room floor. You don’t need this today.

 

~~~~~

 

You watch Murdoc walk away with a weird sense of guilt. “It’s okay, Russ, he’s right. I need to call my parents.”

 

Russel looks at you, face twisted in confusion. “Why do you let him do that shit to you?”

 

You start to play with your fingers while trying to think of an answer. “Well… this is just how it’s always been between us. Murdoc isn’t a bad guy. He’s just a little… hot-headed, I guess.”

 

You think back to the first real meltdown he had. Right after you moved into Kong, the two of you were sharing cigs in your room, just in the beginning stages of writing a new song that would later be named “Ghost Train”. Murdoc was tipsy, as usual. You can’t remember the conversation the two of you had, but you do remember you asking him why he never talked about his parents, given all the drama that had just happened with yours. He told you to “back off”, but like the idiot you are, you pushed the issue even more. He jumped up from the bed, knocking all of the notebooks and your keyboard to the floor below. You were so surprised that you didn’t even bother to move as he leaned close to your face, gripping the front of your shirt. 

 

“Drop it, Dents. My past isn’t a fucking novel you get to read.”

 

He left without another look back. You remember feeling ashamed at how hot your skin felt at his intensity.

 

You come back to the present, smirking to yourself. “He’s really not a bad guy,” you repeat.

 

Russ scratches his head and looks away. “If you say so. I, uh, I think going to see the lights would be a good idea. Murdoc can stay home if he wants to act like a Scrooge”

 

You don’t get it. “Is that an American thing?”

 

“What? No, Dickens was a British… nevermind, D.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Christ, Dents, could you stop kicking my sodding seat?” Murdoc barks from in front of you.

You mumble an apology and force yourself to try to sit cross-legged. You can hear Noodle laughing at you from your side, and you turn your head to stick your tongue out at her. She does it back, and the two of you share a small laugh. Something about her makes the stress seep right out of you.

 

It’s not your fault you don’t like car rides. After two accidents that changed your life, who could blame you? Long car rides like this are even more nerve-wracking. The more time that passes by, the more chance that you’ll crash. What if you get knocked out again? How many times can someone get knocked out before they die?

 

“2D, I will pull over and drag you out of this car if you kick me one more time.”

 

You didn’t even realize that you had put your legs back down. “Sorry, Murdoc. How much longer until we’re there?”

 

“Not even ten minutes, settle down,” he grumbles.

 

You take a deep breath. It’s almost over. At least you’ll get to see the lights! 

 

After what felt like hours of bothering and begging, you managed to convince Murdoc to come along with the rest of the band to see the Christmas lights in London. Since Russel lived in Soho, he’s seen them before, but you and Noodle haven’t. You think your parents might’ve taken you when you were really little, but you definitely don’t remember it. The way Russ described it, it’s gonna be a sight you’ll never forget. 

 

The four of you eventually reach the city limits. As expected, the streets are flooded with people headed to Oxford. Normally, this many people would make you nervous, but you had some thought to bring your sunglasses. Hopefully, under your grey beanie, nobody would notice your unusual hair colour. You think they’ll be busier looking at Zoe Ball. You don’t really know who she is, but Russel seems excited to see her, so you’re happy for him. 

 

Murdoc finally finds a space to park. It’s a bit of a long walk to Oxford, but you’re lucky enough that you got a place to park at all with all these people around. You pull the hat over your hair, zipping up your coat before getting out of the car.  Russel takes care of Noodle’s coat while Murdoc locks the doors with a huff. You know he really didn’t want to come, but couldn’t he at least make an effort to enjoy himself?

 

Things between the two of you have been weird since the snogging session in your room. You haven’t brought it up, and you don’t really plan to. He doesn’t even seem to remember that it happened. He acts like the same old Murdoc, drinking too much and insulting you when he’s in a bad mood. If anything, you sorta feel guilty about the whole thing. What if you took advantage of him? He obviously was too drunk to remember. You made the first move, so it has to be your fault. Yeah, you think it’s better for everyone that you never bring it up.

 

By the time you reach Oxford Street, you can already see the tree. It’s the tallest Christmas tree you’ve ever seen, absolutely covered in ornaments.  You can hear Noodle gasp in delight. You feel like a kid again looking at it. You look over at your bandmates with a grin stuck on your face. Russel has Noodle on his shoulders to give her a better look. They’re both smiling as wide as you. Murdoc, however, has his hands stuffed in his pockets and a scowl on his face. You elbow him, but he just grunts and keeps staring ahead of him. 

 

“What’s wrong?” you whisper.

 

“Fuck off, Dents, you knew I didn’t want to come here. It’s too cold and crowded. Surprised you aren’t freaking out, actually.”

 

You are too. Normally, big events like this would have your skin crawling. Maybe it’s just the Christmas spirit, maybe it’s the hat and glasses, or maybe it’s the painkillers. Right now, you’re feeling pretty good.

 

“I’m sorry I made you come along, Murdoc…”

 

He sighs before turning to face you. “I just don’t like Christmastime. Let’s just get this over with so we can leave, yeah?”

 

You bite your lip and nod. You’re starting to feel really bad about making him come along. You’ll make it up to him someday.

 

You turn your attention to the stage as a woman who you think is Zoe Ball waves to the crowd. She’s really beautiful; you can see why Russel like her. Speaking of, he’s starstruck, staring at her with wide eyes and a smile. The sight makes you smile too. It’s rare that you get to see Russel happy. 

 

You barely pay attention during the short speech Zoe gives, but as soon as they plug the tree in…  _ wow. _ It’s so bright, covered in thousands of lights. It looks like a star all of its own. You feel a giddiness rise in your chest, and you can hear yourself gasp. Noodle is excited too, you can see her practically bouncing on Russel’s shoulders, saying something that you can’t understand but it sounds happy. 

 

Murdoc is less than cheerful. 

 

“Alright, lovely, we saw the lights, now can we go?”

 

Russel sighs. “Man, we just got here! I’m gonna take Noodle to get a closer look. Maybe try to talk to Zoe… Just stay here, Scrooge.” He looks over to you. “You wanna come, D?”

 

You look behind him at the huge swarm of people. The idea of pushing your way through that makes your skin crawl. Plus, you don’t want Murdoc to have to be alone in a place he didn’t wanna come in the first place. “No, thank you, Russ. Too many people, y’know?”

 

He nods. “Alright, we won’t be long. If we can’t find you, we’ll wait in the car, okay?”

 

With that, he’s off, swimming through a sea of bodies. You turn to Murdoc, who’s looking more pissed off than ever. 

 

“Well, what do you wanna do?” you ask.

 

He stays quiet, but pulls a flask out of his jacket pocket and takes a good-sized gulp. He really isn’t having a good time, huh? The guilt crashes down on you.

 

“I’m sorry, Murdoc. I know you aren’t having fun. I’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

 

For the first time tonight, Murdoc smiles. He finally turns his body to face you, leaning in to your ear.

 

“What’ll you do to make it up, huh 2D?”

 

His hushed tone send a shiver down your back without you meaning for it to, and he definitely notices. You feel your face heat up with embarrassment.

 

“Uh-uh, anything, I-I guess…”

 

Suddenly, he’s got the flask tucked away and pulling you away from the crowd. You’re helpless as he drags you far away from the crowd and into a rather dirty looking alleyway. When he lets go, he leans against a brick building, his eye burning a hole through you. You start to shake, but not from the cold.

 

“Uhh… you’re not gonna kill me, r-right?” you manage to squeak out.

 

He chuckles low, so low you can feel the bass in your chest. He takes a few steps towards you, backing you up against a wall. You can feel every nerve in your body screaming out in confusion. On one hand, you’re unbelievably turned on, with Murdoc being so close to you that you can practically feel the heat coming from the burning in his eyes. On the other hand, Murdoc is very unpredictable. He hasn’t flirted towards you at all recently, so there’s no reason to think he wants another makeout session. For all you know, he just wants to beat you senseless for forcing him out here. Part of you doesn’t blame him.

 

“Do you know how hard I’ve been trying to keep myself from losing control around you?” he whispers directly into your ear. You can’t help but to whimper as he starts to lick the area behind your ear with that horrible, wonderful tongue of his. “You don’t think I notice those looks you give me when we muck around in the Winnie? Every time you bite your lip in that stupid way you do, I can’t help but want to bite it for you.” 

 

You’re totally frozen, arms stuck to your sides as his hands rest on either side of your face. His filthy words definitely have an effect on you, both physically and mentally. You thought you had been keeping your ideas and urges under control, but he sees right through you. You had no idea that he feels the same towards you. Now that he’s mentioned it, you really want him to bite you. 

 

But, you aren’t sure about doing this in an alleyway, especially during the Christmas celebration. You can hear people walking not even a meter away from you, what if someone catches you? What if Russel and Noodle catch you? 

 

Somehow, you manage to find your voice. “Murdoc… can’t we do this when we get home? What if someone finds us…”

 

He scoffs. “2D, no one is going to come to this shitty alley for no reason. C’mon, you made me a deal. Just let me bite that fucking lip, then we’re clear, yeah?”

 

You guess that isn’t so rough. You barely nod your head, closing your eyes. Almost immediately, he crashes his lips to yours, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t squeal even in the slightest. His arms wrap around your hips and he rests his hands on your bum, giving it a firm squeeze. Your body feels like it’s fire and there’s nothing you can do but grip the front of his jumper so tight you know your fingers are going to cramp later. You open your mouth ever so slightly to invite him in, and of course he takes the opportunity. As he promised, he finally traps your bottom lip in between his teeth, giving it a few tugs. For the first time in front of him, you let yourself moan outright, just loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for the people in the streets to hear. He growls back, biting your lip even harder. 

 

You’re getting restless, the sweater in your hands doesn’t feel as good as having his hair between your fingers. In a quick move, you slide your hands up to cup right underneath his ears, tugging lightly at the strands there. As soon as you start tugging, Murdoc separates from you and shoves you into the wall hard. You back slams against the bricks, the air escaping your lungs. You fall to the ground and wheeze, trying hard to get some air. You look up at Murdoc. He’s shaking, with wide eyes and an angry scowl. 

 

“Don’t fucking touch my hair. Never do that again.”

 

With that, he stomps away.

 

You’re stuck on the ground, still wheezing. Tears prick your eyes, and without Murdoc here you openly cry. Everything was going so great, and like everything else, you muck it up. Obviously, you crossed some sort of boundary. 

 

_ I’m so stupid! Why didn’t I ask first? He’s never going to want to do that with me again…  _

 

When you eventually start breathing again, you stand up and wipe the almost frozen tears from your cheeks. No use in crying now, you suppose. You have to get back to the band before Murdoc decides to drive off without you. You don’t think Russ would let him do that, but who knows? Even though the pain in your spine makes you wince with every step, you start heading towards the car, your first experience on Oxford street ruined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I will be going on a short hiatus during the holidays. I have finals this week, then I'm headed back to England to spend Christmas with my nan and her side of the family. During this time I'll probably fine tune the previous chapters, but I don't have the time or energy to write very much. I fly back to America Feb 1, so it should be business as usual after that. Thanks so much for sticking around! 
> 
> Tumblr is phazes-of-2doc (if they don't murk my account after the 17th)  
> I've started a Twitch account with my best friend! @artynshea


	18. Harsh Vibes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D comes back to Kong after a short break.
> 
> CW: alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!! Thank you to those who waited so patiently.

 

It’s only been a couple months since you’ve last been in Crawley, but it’s almost unrecognizable under so much snow. The streets are lined with dirty sludge, a stark contrast to the untouched whiteness on the rooftops. As you make the turn onto the Pot’s street, some little bastard of a child throws a snowball at your windshield. You flip him off, thankful that the snowstorm missed Kong. 

 

After Oxford, 2D finally called up his parents. He worked things out with his father, although you’re certain David still wants you dead. He decided to spend Christmas and New Year’s with them, after giving you and the other band member’s gifts, of course. He got Noodle one of those digital pets that she’s been babbling about when commercials pop up on the telly. Russel got coupon booklet for the pizza takeaway place down the road, which you’re sure offended him to no end, but he thanked 2D nonetheless. You got a couple packs of cigarettes, which is honestly the best Christmas present you’ve ever gotten. Almost made you feel bad about not getting him anything. To be fair, you didn’t buy anyone a gift.

 

You finally pull into the car park across the road from the house and honk a few times until you’re on the verge of a noise complaint. He always takes too long, so you decide to have a smoke while you wait. You don’t even know why you decided to drive him home. You could’ve been doing a hundred more important things tonight than driving to Crawley in the middle of fucking winter. He’s going to have to make it up to you for this. 

 

Two full cigarettes later, you finally see that familiar flash of blue step outside. You don’t bother opening the door for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling like the dullard he is when he sits down. 

 

“Hi, Murdoc! Thanks for coming to get me.”

 

You sigh and start up the car. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me one.”

 

“Owe you my soul, don’t I?” He chuckles to himself while lighting up his own cigarette. “Could’ve came in while you waited, you know. Too cold to be sitting out here in a car without heat.”

 

“I’d rather freeze to death than have to look at your sodding father in the eye again.”

 

He laughs and you head out. He hasn’t talked about Oxford, but you know he thinks about it. You see that curious glint in his eyes when he looks at you. You can’t believe you freaked out like that. 2D doesn’t know that side of you, and that’s the way it should’ve stayed. Now, you’re praying to Satan that he’s too stupid to figure out anything. 

 

2D falls asleep halfway through the drive, so you take the opportunity to pull your flask out of your pocket and take a few hearty swigs of your latest favourite rum. Dents has been obnoxious with his anxieties about your drinking and driving. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? Well, as long as you stay on the road.

 

You peek over at him. He’s so tall that his head leans back over the headrest. Makes him look absolutely ridiculous. He’s got his mouth wide open, luckily he doesn’t snore. Drool runs down his cheek onto his arm. Despite being a “pretty boy”, he isn’t a very attractive sleeper. Eh, whatever, you’d still have him.

 

You shake your head and look away. No, you wouldn’t, you told yourself that you’re done with that. He’s getting too close. It was never a good idea to try to shag your bandmate in the first place. It might’ve been fun, but the poor sap might do something stupid like fall in love with you. He seems to have a bad habit of signing his life away to someone else for no reason, and he has one for you! No, that path is closed up now. Strictly business, so to speak. No matter how badly you want to fuck that pretty, toothless mouth of his.

 

Ugh. You’re hopeless.

 

You pull up to Kong just as the sun is setting. As repulsive as the place is, it’s actually quite lovely in the glow of the sunset. Almost makes the landfill look like some sort of weird alien mountain. You park in the garage next to your Winnebago. You’ve never been happier to be home.

 

“Wake up, Dents, we’re back,”

 

He doesn’t move immediately, so you give him (what you consider) a light punch on the leg. He jolts up and slams his head on the roof of the car. He looks dazed and upset.

 

“Ow, Murdoc, that hurt!”

 

“Shut it, faceache, we’re home.”

 

He rubs his forehead and looks around. “Oh.”

 

The two of you step out and share a moment of post-car ride stretching. You light a cigarette as 2D gets his bag out of the boot. 

 

“Well, if you need me I’ll be in the Winnie,” you say, as you walk over to the RV.

 

“I’m going to visit Noodle and Russ, mind if I come by later tonight?”

 

You groan silently. That doesn’t sound like a great idea. “Not tonight, Dents. We got band practise tomorrow, so make sure you’re in the studio by the time I wake up, yeah?”

 

He looks crestfallen. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow.” 

 

If it wasn’t for the near pint of rum in your stomach, you’d probably feel guilty. But, the night is young, so you walk into your Winnie and spend the rest of the night getting high and writing songs.

 

\------

 

It feels great to be home. Well, not that you didn’t enjoy seeing your parents, but your old life in Crawley is over. You just consider Kong to be your home, in a sort of weird way. It may be haunted and surrounded by graves and trash, but you missed your bed and bandmates. 

 

Speaking of, you’re currently carrying Noodle piggyback across the foyer. The moment she saw you were home, she ran to you and insisted you carry her. How could you say no to those cute little shouts of “up! up!”? Russel sits on the sofa, watching the two of you through exhausted eyes.

 

“It’s good to have you back, man, but I think it’s Noodle’s bedtime.”

 

“Aw, c’mon Russ, just a little more?” Noodle nods in agreement.

 

“Not tonight, D. I’m gonna wake her up early so we can practise English before we go to the studio.”

 

You reluctantly put Noodle down, much to her disappointment. “Sorry, luv, we’ll finish this tomorrow, yeah?”

 

She pouts, so you have no choice but to tickle her until she starts giggling again. With that, Russel goes to put her, and himself, in bed.

 

Since Murdoc wants to be alone tonight, that just leaves you. You have no intention to sleep anytime soon, but you don’t want to spend your night bored. You attempt to watch some programmes on the television, but nothing really interests you. After around an hour of wandering about, mostly looking for food in the kitchen, you decide to just go back to your room and practise on the keyboard for tomorrow. It goes fairly well, considering you didn’t practise at all while at your parents. You spent most of the time just chatting with Mum, telling her all the crazy stuff that had happened in the few short months since you moved out. She was a little worried about Noodle, but you convinced her that you are a good caretaker. Really, it’s mostly Russel that takes care of her, but she doesn’t have to know that. 

 

You’re halfway through a melody you wrote when there’s a knock at your door.  _ Strange, I thought everyone was asleep. _

 

“Uh, come in?” you call hesitantly. 

 

Much to your surprise, Murdoc comes in. He’s carrying what looks like a joint and his favourite bottle of rum. You assume he’s drunk.

 

“Hey Murdoc….what’re you doing here?”

 

He sits on the foot of the bed and hands you the rum. “Got bored. ‘S no fun getting drunk alone anymore.”

 

“Oh, okay. I’m bored, too.” You take a small drink, grimacing at the taste. Despite how much you like getting sloshed, you don’t really fancy the taste of alcohol all that much. 

 

Murdoc nods in the direction of the keyboard. “What’cha working on?”

 

“Just something I came up with. I make tunes when I’m bored.”

 

“Yeah? Show me what you got, maybe we could work it into a song.”

 

“I thought you didn’t like a lot of keyboard.”

 

He snorts. “Just shut up and play, D.”

 

You snicker at him but play anyway. It’s not even a fully finished tune, just something you’ve been thinking about for a month or so. Murdoc seems interested, though, and he seems like he’s actually listening. Maybe he doesn’t hate keyboard as much as he thought.

 

“Good tune. We should get Russ to try it on drums,” he says after you’re finished.

 

You can’t help but to blush at the praise. You’re fairly certain that he doesn’t want to continue the, er,  _ romantic  _ side of your friendship, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting it. “You think it’s good?”

 

“That’s what I said, innit?” He lights the joint and passes it to you, trading it for the rum.

 

You spend a bit like that, just smoking and drinking without saying anything. You’d think it’d feel awkward, but it isn’t like that with Murdoc. He may act like a right arse sometimes, but you feel more comfortable around him than anyone else. Well, maybe Noodle, but you can’t really have a chat with her. 

 

A sudden dizziness hits your skull. Maybe those last couple shots were a bit much. The room looks blurry and you can’t stop giggling. God, it’s been a while since you’ve been this warped. You don’t hate it.

 

“H-hey, Murdoc. Can I ashk ya a question?”

 

He’s lying on his back, but he lifts his head up to look at you. “What kind?”

 

“Why...why did you…” You lose your train of thought. Speaking of, why does it have to be a train? Why not something cool, like a rocket ship? Or like a spooky cruise?

 

“Spit it out, Dents,” Murdoc warns. 

 

“Oh, right, sorry. Why did you pushhhh me away on Oxford?” You briefly wonder why Murdoc isn’t slurring as badly as you. He drank just as much.

 

He scowls. “Dunno what you’re talking about, mate.”

 

Somewhere in your mind, an alarm sounds that tells you to shut up. Of course, you don’t.

 

“Yesh you do! We snogged and then you pushed me on my arse. That really hurt, by the way!”

 

“Drop it, dullard.” His tone should scare you, but right now, it really turns you on.

 

“I will not! I-I-I wanna know! And, you know, it sucks, ‘cos-cos I really wanna kish you again, but I can’t!”

 

He lies back down and covers his face with hands for a moment. Then, he sits up fully and turns to face you. “You really wanna know? I don’t like having my hair touched. Fucking sends chills down my spine.”

 

You scoff. “Not my fault I didn’t know! Ya coulda just said something.”

 

“You’re really pissing me off, you know that?”

 

“Same to you!”

 

It’s quiet again. You stare each other down for a moment. The anger coursing through your body leaks away slowly, and you start to feel bad.

 

“Why?” you ask quietly.

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why don’t ya like your hair being touched?”

 

He looks away. Then, gets up. “Fuck this,” you hear him mutter as he leaves.

 

You don’t know what to feel. You’re confused and drunk and high and angry and still a little horny. God, what a fucking mess you are.  You just pray that you won’t remember this tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the flu and I wanna die but boy howdy do I love 2doc angst
> 
> Tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


	19. First Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2D's first birthday as a member of Gorillaz. He doesn't expect much.
> 
> CW: sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER IM SO SORRY.
> 
> i've been uhhhhhh really bad depressed the past few months. I'm okay now, finally on medication and learning to love writing again. I ain't giving up yet bois.
> 
> (also re-gained my very mild -cough- addiction to World of Warcraft so i've pretty much been doing nothing but that whoops)

_ You've never felt a bed this soft. You’ve grown so used to rock hard mattresses and itchy hospital cots that you never thought something so warm and cosy exists. You sink further into the mattress and run your hands along the sheets. They feel fuzzy, just your style.  _

 

_ Besides the bed and a red door, the room is fully white. It almost looks like there’s no walls. You vaguely remember something like this while you were unconscious, except then it was black and you didn’t have a nice bed to lay in. There was a red door, though. Or, you could be imagining things again. The doctors said you’d lose memory. _

 

_ Suddenly, you hear the door opening. You struggle to open your eyes to see who’s invaded your comfort zone. The figure doesn’t really have a face; it’s just a black body-shaped shadow. It looks like a nightmare, but oddly, you’re not afraid at all. It slinks over to you, slowly crawling up on the bed and towering over you. You want to touch it’s face, but your arms won’t move. Again, you aren’t scared.  _

 

_ It seems just as curious as you are.  You feel a tingle going up and down your sides, Looking down, you see that the creature is dragging what you think is claws along your ribs. It gives you chills, but not the bad kind. Slowly, it leans down to your chest. You can feel its breaths on your bare chest, and you shiver. It looks up at you and reveals its mouth, smiling at you with sharp teeth. You want nothing more than for those teeth to bite you. _

 

_ The claws on your sides make their way up to your nipples, brushing them lightly. You can’t help but to groan quietly, giving the creature permission to continue. It leans down and licks slow circles on your collarbone. You buck up against it involuntarily, wishing more and more that you could move your arms. That devilish tongue moves up to your neck while the claws on your nipples start pinching. You’re moaning openly now, throwing all caution to the wind. The creature pauses for just a moment before latching its teeth into the crook of your neck. You  _ **_howl_ ** .

 

You wake up from the dream sweating and panting. The sheets are tangled up in your legs. As you realize that it was only a dream, you also realize that it was a  _ wet  _ dream. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you get up to shower. What kind of twenty-year-old stills gets wets dreams? Wait, no, the clock on your table reads 4:17 AM. It’s your twenty-first birthday. 

 

~~~~~

 

You couldn’t fall back asleep after your shower. You didn’t sleep much before either. So now, you’re lying on the settee in a half dream state. Kinda like when you take too many pills and think the walls are moving. Luckily, everyone else seems to either be asleep or out, so maybe you can get some rest.

 

Your eyelids close. Your breathing slows. You finally starting to drift to sleep…

 

“TOOCHI!!”

 

Panic seizes your chest as the screaming attacker jumps on your ribcage. You’re screaming too, until you realize it’s just a very excited Noodle.

 

“Blimey, Noodle, you almost killed me!” You laugh anyway. It’s not her fault, she’s just hyper. You were an excitable kid as well.

 

“Kitchen, kitchen!” she yells. 

 

“Kitchen? What’s in the kitchen?”

 

“Follow!”

 

Not even your exhaustion beats Noodle. You drag yourself off of the sette and follow her. She’s practically bouncing with every step.

 

When the two of you reach the kitchen, it’s pitch black. Noodle runs in, but you hesitate at the doorway. A sense of dread overwhelms you.

 

“Uh, Noodle?” you call out.

 

You’re suddenly blinded by the light being switched on. Opening your eyes, you see Noodle and Russel standing beside the shoddy table in the middle of the room. There’s a white birthday cake with a few crooked candles. The icing job on the cake isn’t the best, and since Russ is a great baker, you assume he let Noodle decorate. It warms your heart nonetheless.

 

“Is this for me?” you ask. You don’t even try to contain your smile.

 

“Yeah, D. Happy birthday,” Russ says.

 

“Happy birthday!” Noodle shouts.

 

“I’ve been teaching her to say that for a few weeks,’ Russ says with a laugh. “She’s almost blown our cover because she’s been saying it a lot. Thank God you’re asleep most of the day.”

 

“Thank you guys so much, this is brilliant!”

 

Russel grabs the lighter from the table and lights the candles.You can’t help but to feel a pang of sadness knowing Murdoc isn’t here to celebrate too. He hasn’t mentioned your night of drunken blabbering, like he’s trying to ignore it. You don’t remember very much, but the bits and pieces you can recall aren’t very pretty. With a sigh, you push that memory away and sit down in the chair in front of the cake.

 

“Alright, now blow the candles and make a wish.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to sing to me?”

 

“I don’t sing, D.”

 

You chuckle and take a few moments to think of want you really want. World peace? A new keyboard? Maybe for Murdoc to-

 

No. Not that one.

 

You settle for the keyboard and blow out the candles.

 

Russ cuts the cake and hands each of you a slice. Noodle gobbles it down in seconds, of course, and lifts up her plate to get another slice.

 

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart, that’s too much sugar for you,” Russ warns.

 

“Aw, c’mon Russel, it’s a special occasion!” you protest on her behalf.

 

“Trust me, 2D, you were with your parents when she got all hopped up on Christmas candies. You’d understand.”

 

You laugh. “Russ, every kid gets hyper from Christmas sweets. Weren’t you?”

 

“Well, yeah, but she’s different.”

 

“She sure is.”

 

The three of you turn to see Murdoc standing in the doorway. Your heart flutters in a way you don’t enjoy.

 

“Thanks for inviting me,  _ pals. _ ”

 

“You were passed out when we were setting up. Didn’t feel like dealing with you if I woke you up,” Russ states calmly.

 

“Hm, yeah, well, it’s time for band practise.”

 

“Can I finish my cake first?” you ask.

 

“Put it in the fridge, I’d like to get this over with so I can get to my nightly round of drinking.”

 

“Man, you’re some kind of alcoholic,” Russ sighs as he stands.

 

“You got that right, doll, now hurry your arses up.” With that he leaves.

 

“I got it Russ, you two go ahead.”

 

“I’m not making you clean up on your birthday, go get your keyboard.”

 

You give him a thanking smile before heading to the lift. 

  
  


~~~~~

 

Practise goes well. So far, you only have a handful of songs, most of them unnamed, but they sound amazing. At this rate, your demo of the album should be ready in around a year, which is the deadline EMI gave you. While you’re excited to finally be making music (good music at that!), the pressure is really showing through. Your vocals aren’t as great as you’d want them to be. To be honest, you never wanted to be a singer, but everyone agrees that you’re the best in the band and it’s too late to try to find a new one. 

 

“You know, you could’ve come seen your father and I on your birthday.”

 

You sigh. That’s another thing: you kind of feel bad for leaving your parents. It’s not like you’ve completely forgotten them by any means. You ring them often and visited them over Christmas (although to be completely fair, you only accepted your mum’s offer because you needed a small vacation to think about a few things). It’s just that you’ve been living with them your whole life, always having someone to cook you meals, always having someone to turn to when your emotions got the better of you, always having someone to tend to your migraines. Adjusting to adult life has been harder than you thought it would be, especially under the circumstances. Maybe your dad was right all along. 

 

But you can’t give in now. You’re already so close to your first album. You have to at  _ least  _ give the band a chance. If it doesn’t work out, you’ll go home and apologise for being such a ponce. Maybe actually listen to your parents for once.

 

“I know, I’m sorry, Mum. We were busy with practise all day.”

 

She’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t even celebrate?”

 

You tuck the phone under your neck to write down a lyric you just thought of in your notebook. “Well, Russ and Noodle baked me a cake. It was really nice of them. We had practise right after though.”

 

“That was really nice of them. Remind me what their birthdays are so I can send them gifts too.” She pauses again. “Did Murdoc celebrate too?”

 

You blush and frown. During your visit, you ended up telling your mum about what happened on Oxford. Of course she was disappointed, but held you the whole time you cried. You don’t know why you’re lucky enough to have someone so supportive. 

 

“No, he’s not that kind of guy.”

 

You can hear her sigh. “Stu, you know I’ll support whatever you wanna do and whoever you want to date, but…” she trails off.

 

Your ears feel hot. “We aren’t dating, Mum. Besides, whatever... _ that _ ...was is over now. We’re just bandmates. And he’s a pretty good friend.”

 

That’s not entirely a lie. While Murdoc can be an arse sometimes and you don’t fully know what he wants from you, the two of you have actually gotten closer in the past few weeks. Most nights, the two of you relax in his Winnie and think up songs together. The musical energy between the two of you is greater than you even thought it’d be when he asked you to start a band. It’s like that night in January never happened. You wonder if he even remembers it.

 

Your mother chuckles. “I just want your happiness, Stuart. I’m glad everything is going well.”

 

You smile and lie down on your bed, chucking your notebook to the floor. “Thanks, Mum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no longer going to be uploading every friday (obviously) so follow me on Tumblr to see when i upload!
> 
> @phasez-of-2doc


	20. D-Day Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The line between "strictly bandmates" and "something more" officially gets blurred.
> 
> CW: alcohol, sexual content, vomit, panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnn so a few things
> 
> 1\. yes I know this is very late
> 
> 2\. there's a reason, I HAVE A BETA READER NOW. My good friend Webbzy has agreed to proofread my bullshit 
> 
> 3\. however, they have not read this chapter, so consider it a final draft
> 
> 4\. there is SMUT up in this bitch, and it's not GOOD
> 
> 5\. pls don't judge me ily

Excited, two bottles of vodka in hand, you press the lift button to send you down to the car park. You’re smiling despite yourself, and why wouldn’t you? It’s a very exciting day after all. Two whole years since what you may consider to be the best day of your life (except maybe trying coke for the first time or shagging that wonderful brunette in Nottingham). 

 

Once in the car park, you wander down to 2D’s room, trying ever so carefully to not drop the booze along the way. You knock on his door and wait. It’s around seven in the evening, so he should be awake. You’re surprised that he hasn’t come to find you, actually. In fact, he’s been cooped up in his room all day. Probably stuck in bed with another one of his migraines.

 

He answers shortly after, not wearing trousers.

 

“Murdoc? What’re you doing here?” His barely visible pupils wander down to the bottles.

 

“You should really put trousers on before you answer the door, dullard, what if I was Noodle?”

 

“Noodle never comes down here.” He steps aside, letting you enter. Both of you sit on the unmade bed. “Never answered my question.”

 

“You don’t know what day is it?”

 

He stares at you in thought for a moment. “Sometime in August, yeah?”

 

You scoff. Of course he’s too stupid to even know what day it is. “No, dullard, it’s D-Day!”

 

His brow furrows and he tilts his head. “It’s what?”

 

“The day we met!”

 

He relaxes and smiles. “Oh! Why’d you word it like that?”

 

“Eh, I actually paid attention in history and liked the sound of it. Anyway, you up for a celebration?”

 

His barely-there pupils flick back to the bottle. He’s clearly nervous. You haven’t mentioned it, but you remember what happened in January. The two of you haven’t been that drunk since, but it’s a special day. As long as he keeps it in his trousers, it should be alright.

 

“I won’t let you get too fucked up this time, I promise,” you say with a wink.

 

He looks back up to you, flushed and stunned. “You remember.” It’s not a question.

 

You roll your eyes and hand him a bottle, reaching for a shot glass on his bedside table. “Yes I remember, let’s move on. It’s a very special day!”

 

He smiles at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright, Murdoc.”

 

You pour your shot as he pours his. You’re actually excited to drink with him again. Most nights, it’s just you in the Winnie or, rarely, the two of you going out to a pub. Usually those nights don’t end well, typically resulting in you horking all over the sidewalk and him having to stay sober to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit. Ah, what a sweet kid.

 

The last time you drank together was your birthday, and even that didn’t last long. You never liked celebrating it but he insisted on doing something since he already spent his signing bonus on gifts for his family and the band. You compromised by letting him drink with you for the last hour you were awake, and he didn’t even drink that much. You’re going to force him to have fun, fuck his fears. You can control yourself better than that.

 

The two of you drink for a couple hours, discussing your latest songs and cracking jokes about Russel. When it’s quiet for a while, 2D speaks up.

 

“You think this is a special day?” he asks after downing what must be his fifth shot.

 

“You don’t?” You gotta admit, that stings a little.

 

“What? No! It’s not that. It’s just…” he trails off, fiddling with the shot glass.

 

“Do you miss your old life?” The words were out before you could even think about them. Why’d you ask that? You don’t even give a shit.

 

He seems just as shocked as you. “S-sometimes, I guess. I mean my eyes are weird and my headaches are worse than usual. I miss my parents. But I’m really glad I got to meet Noodle, and Russel…” His eyes flick up to meet yours. Maybe he doesn’t realize that you can tell where he’s looking at all times. “And you.”

 

Your chest feels weird. You ignore it.

 

“And this house is really cool, even if it’s creepy and surrounded by trash and dead bodies. And I like the music we make. I always wanted to make music. Never saw myself as a singer, though.”

 

“Would you take it all back though?” What the fuck is wrong with you??

 

He smiles that stupid gap-toothed smile of his. “No, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

 

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the need to escape the uncomfortable conversation. Maybe it’s just for no reason at all. But next thing you know, you lean forward and grab him by the waist, pulling him in for a heated kiss. He’s shocked, obviously, going completely rigid for a few seconds before letting go and wrapping his arms behind your back. You pull him into your lap, making him open his mouth with your tongue. He sighs into the kiss and rests his arms on your shoulders.

 

He pulls back just enough to talk. “Murdoc, we’re gonna spill vodka on my bed.”

 

“Sod it, I’ll buy you new sheets.”

 

That makes him groan and kiss you harder. Well, so much for self control. You thought you were over this. There’s just something about him that makes you want to get into his trousers. If you were a psychiatrist, you’d probably say something along the lines of wanting the forbidden part of your friendship and knowing that he wants this badly too, giving you some sort of control. But, that shite’s for lunatics. You’re just horny.

 

Your control slips a bit more, and you start getting more aggressive. He’s not even trying to fight against the tongue in his mouth, but you push further anyway. You also bite his lower lip, rewarding you his first moan of the night. He seems embarrassed, laughing quietly, but it only fuels your fire. Your hands move form his hips to slither under his shirt to claw lightly at his ribs. You move from his mouth to his neck, giving him small bites and sucks but not enough to leave a mark. Can’t have anyone else knowing about this. 

 

He hesitates for a moment before grabbing fistfuls of your shirt. He remembers about your hair. What a sweetheart.

 

“Murdoc, Christ, are you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispers.

 

Are you? You told yourself you weren’t going to do this anymore. What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t you control yourself for three fucking minutes?

 

But as you rake your nails along a particularly sensitive spot, his whole body shudders and he accidently grinds down on your hard-on. Maybe if you can’t shag him, you can work around your rules.

 

You lean back to look up at him. Satan, he’s tall. He has a hard time looking you in the eyes but he tries his best. His eyelids are drooping and he’s panting ever so slightly. He looks stunning like this. 

 

“You ever sucked a dick before, Dents?”

 

His face goes completely scarlet and his eyes look like they might bug out of his head, but he nods slowly. Perfect, you don’t feel like being a teacher tonight.

 

“Hop off, then.”

 

He slides off your legs and kneels on the floor. Unfortunately, the bed is very low and he’s quite tall, so he ends up a little lower than eye level. Eh, it’ll work itself out.

 

You lean back to unbuckle your belt. You peek up to look at 2D. He’s very clearly nervous, shaking like a leaf and slightly pale. Well, paler than normal. His eyes are glued to your hands as they rip off the belt and go to undo your fly. He looks like he might be sick. You pause.

 

“Do you want to do this, 2D?” No matter how much you want it, it’s against your religion (and personal morals for obvious reasons) to try to force someone into something like this.

 

He looks up at you and swallows hard before giving you a small smile. “Yeah, if you do,” he says in nothing more but a choked whisper.

 

That’s all you need. With that, you unzip your fly and push your trousers down a bit. Like any day, you only wear one piece of clothing from the waist down so you aren’t wearing any pants. Your cock springs out it all its glory. Even you impress yourself sometimes. 

 

When you look back at 2D, he’s awestruck, and why wouldn’t he be? His eyes are focused on it, even as you start to stroke yourself. 

 

“Take a picture, Dents, it’d last longer.”

 

He looks away, flustered and bright red. “S-s-sorry…”

 

You chuckle darkly and grab him by the chin, pulling him over to face you. “Don’t be, love, I’m flattered.”

 

He whines deep in his throat, sending a shock of arousal down your spine and straight to your groin. 

 

“Go on,” you purr.

  
  


You lean back to rest on your forearms and give him more room. Slowly, he scoots forward on his knees and inches down. You can feel his breath on your prick and it gives you  _ shivers.  _ He hesitates for a moment, but eventually takes a hold on you and lowers his mouth. He seems very nervous which aggravates you for a moment. You’re too horny to deal with some amateur bullshit, you just need some experienced skills to get you off so maybe you could enjoy the rest of this special day and-  _ holy shit! _

 

Okay, so he definitely isn’t as used to this as you thought he was but  _ fuck  _ he’s not the worst, not even bad. He starts out by just suckling on the head, but slowly starts to lower himself even more. You’re enjoying it, starting to breathe heavier, but suddenly he jerks off of you and starts retching into the waste bin beside his bed. Despite yourself, you chuckle.

 

“Is it really that bad?”

 

He wipes his mouth and shakes his head. “N-no, I’m sorry. Gagged myself.”

 

You laugh again and run a hand through his hair.  _ Just as soft as I remembered.  _ “As much as I appreciate the compliment, I’ll be real pissed off if you puke on my dick. Pace yourself, dullard, we got all night.”

 

He nods and gets back to it, opting to use his hand where his mouth won’t reach. You thread your hand back in his hair and tug lightly, feeling the vibrations on your cock as he moans lowly.  _ Kinky little fucker.  _ As time goes on, the two of you start to get more intense, and by the time you feel yourself starting to come undone, he’s almost fully taken you in, you’re pulling on his hair harder, and he’s a moaning mess. 

 

“Sweet Satan, Dents, you really like swallowing my cock, huh?” Your voice sounds more out of breath than you’d like for it to be, but you’re losing your composure.

 

He groans and nods, the hand pumping you going faster and his tongue running along the underside of the head. You should’ve been getting sucked off by gap-tooth freaks long ago, the feeling of your dick sliding against his gums is  _ brilliant. _ You grip his hair tighter, your other hand gripping the bed sheet just as tight. You aren’t going to last much longer, especially when he hollows his cheeks like  _ that _ . 

 

“Hng, gonna come, Dents, I’m so close.”

 

He whimpers and grips your thighs. You start to shallowly thrust up into his mouth, and as you’re about to come, he opens his eyes and looks up at you, face absolutely wrecked and full of lust. That’s more than you needed, and you explode into his mouth, whispering curses and praises. His grip on your thighs tightens just as the grip in his hair does the same, and he lets out a low, long whine before you collapse backward on the bed. You close your eyes and hear him spit into the waste bin.  _ Never saw him as a quitter.  _ You hear him shuffle up to sit on the bed beside you, and suddenly everything that just happens hits you fully.

 

_ What the fuck did I just do? I’m such a fucking idiot, I can’t believe I let myself go through with this. This wasn’t ever supposed to happen, why can’t I control myself around him more? This is gonna fuck up the band, you stupid fucking arsehole.  _

 

Your breath quickens, and you have an overwhelming desire to escape, the walls feel like they’re closing in on you. You open your eyes to see 2D peering at you in confusion. 

 

“Murdoc, are you okay?”

 

You can’t be here anymore. You have to leave. 

 

“I’ve gotta go.”

 

As you rush to make yourself decent, you hear 2D worrying, asking you  _ what happened, did I do something wrong, i’m sorry!  _ You don’t look back as you run from the room and to your Winnie, promptly vomiting into the toilet and letting this feeling consume you, wrap around your skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am BAD at SMUT i'm SORRY
> 
> tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


	21. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D struggles with his feelings over the new changes in his friendship with Murdoc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've written so much in the past week holy christ
> 
> CW: mentions of alcohol, sexual content

_ "Murdoc, open the door! We gotta talk about this.” _

 

_ Still, you only get silence.  He’s really starting to irritate you now. He can’t just up and leave like that. You understand that he’s not a cuddly-type, but he could at least say something! _

 

_ “Murdoc, I know it was weird or whatever, but, please let me in! Was it something I did? I’m sorry if it was!” _

 

_ You bang on the door a few more times. You’re just getting angrier by the second. You’re not going to let this go. He hasn’t left in three days. Even Russel is worried about him. It’s not healthy, and you’re fed up and probably a little too drunk. No matter how hard you’re swaying on your feet and shaking, you’re going to talk to him.  _

 

_ “Stop being a prick and open the sodding door, Murdoc!” _

 

_ You give the Winnie’s door a swift kick and end up hurting your big toe in the process. You quickly collapse to the car park floor, holding your foot and whispering swears. You feel pinpricks of tears in your eyes. If you let them fall, you’ll just end up bawling. Why is he being so fucking  _ **_frustrating_ ** _? _

 

_ To ignore the pain in your foot, you decide it’s a great idea to punch the door instead, so you do just that. The plan works, but now you’re just focused on the pain exploding from your knuckles.  _ __  
  


_ “ _ **_Shit!”_ ** _ you shout a little louder than you intend to. You hold your hand to your chest and try to ride out the wave of pain. Suddenly, the door above you slams open. _

 

_ “Shut the fuck up, Dents, you’re going to wake the other people, and stop hitting my fucking Winnebago before I strangle you!” _

 

_ “Well you should’ve opened it in the first place, you tosser!  _

 

_ “Maybe I don’t feel like fucking talking it out!” _

 

_ “Too bloody bad, we need to!” You stand up, the sudden adrenaline making you forget about the pain in both limbs. “Are you going to let me in or not, Murdoc?” _

 

_ He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Not right now, 2D, look at the state of you! You’re too fucking sloshed to have a proper conversation right now.” _

 

_ “That’s bullshit! Don’t make this about me!” _

 

_ He seems taken aback by your outburst. It’s pretty rare you swear like this, even more rare that you aren’t backing down. You’ll blame the alcohol for your sudden courage.  _

 

_ “I’m not leaving.” _

 

_ Something that looks an awful lot like fear flashes in his eyes before he closes them and groans. “Fucking- alright, fine get in here before I change my mind and kick your sorry arse until you’re back in a coma.” _

 

_ You know he’s not being serious, so you step inside after him. He goes to the little bedroom and sits on the bed, grabbing a cigarette from his pack on the nightstand. You go to sit beside him but he holds his hand out to stop you. _

 

_ “No, you’re staying right there,” he says after lighting up. _

 

_ “You don’t even want to be near me now? Bloody rude, considering.” _

 

_ He gives you an icy glare and for the first time since he opened the door, you start to feel afraid and worried. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. Maybe you should have stayed in your room and never mention it again. But you’re already here, so you gather your nerves and try to stay angry. _

 

_ After a couple puffs, he sighs and looks you in the eyes. “Alright, what was so fucking important?” _

 

_ You’re shocked and the anger comes back. “Are you kidding me? You just up and leave with no explanation, stay locked in here for three days, and expect me to just ignore it?” _

 

_ “Yeah, that’s what I was hoping for. We aren’t dating, dumbass, I don’t need to stick around after you suck me off.” _

 

_ You feel your face start to burn but you’ll be damned if you let your stupid crush get in the way of this. Or has it already? _

 

_ “It’s not like that, your face is what I want to talk about. You look like you were going to throw up. Did I do something wrong?” _

 

_ His hand goes to his hair again. Funny, being that he doesn’t even like having his hair touched but it’s comforting to him. “No, wasn’t you. Best blowie I’ve had in a while.” He chuckles in a way that feels fake.  _

 

_ Pride swells in your chest but you ignore that, too. “Well, what was it then? Don’t say ‘nothing’, either.” _

 

_ “When did you grow a pair?” He pauses to take one last hit of his fag before snubbing it out. “Don’t think you can start fucking talking to me like this. I’m just too tired to deal with you.” _

 

_ You sigh, exhaustion starting to take over. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just care about you, okay? Something happened in there and we need to talk about it. I’m tired of just ignoring the problem. We always do this, this bloody ritual of messing around and ignoring each other for weeks.” You’re rambling now, but there’s no way you can control it at this point. “I-I’m just so confused. Do you want to do this? ‘Cos, if-if not just let me know! I-I just…” You feel yourself starting to cry, and there’s no stopping it this time. “I j-just want to know what you  _ **_want_ ** _ from me!” _

 

_ He’s silent for a bit, watching you unravel. Your legs give out and you collapse on the floor, putting your head in your hands. You can hear him shift on the bed. _

 

_ “You have no clue how much I want to fuck you, 2D.” _

 

_ That gives you pause. You look back up at him through your fingers. He’s serious. You had no idea. You just figured he’s been toying with your emotions because he somehow knows about how you feel about him. He could still be doing that, to be fair. _

 

_ “Huh?” _

 

_ “I just can’t.” _

 

_ Don’t say it. For the love of God, 2D, don’t say- _

 

_ “Why not?”  _

 

_ Bloody idiot. _

 

_ He clears his throat uncomfortably. Great, NOW he definitely knows how you feel. You should’ve stayed in bed. _

 

_ “I-I made this sorta personal rule, I guess. Not to shag you for the sake of the band.” _

 

_ That makes sense. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. You mentally kick yourself for ever letting this get as far as it did. Maybe if you could just control yourself, none of this wouldn’t have ever happened and you could just focus on creating a band instead of trying so hard to shag your best mate. _

 

_ “I-I’m sorry, Murdoc. I didn’t mean to-” _

 

_ “But.” _

 

_ You pause.  _

 

_ He sighs before continuing. “But, I’m having a hard time trying to obey that rule. You know me, lawbreaker.” He laughs quietly. “I lost control that night. It wasn’t you.” _

 

_ You slowly stand up. This is a lot to take in at once. You didn’t realize that he’s fighting for control of himself, too. _

 

_ “W-we can just go back to being nothing more than mates, if-if you want. I won’t mention this ever again.” _

 

_ “That’s not going to work, 2D. We’re beyond that.” _

 

_ “Oh.” You look down, unsure of what to say or do next. _

 

_ “I won’t break that rule. However…” You look up to see him grinning devilishly at you. Your heartbeat quickens. “Totally up to you, of course, but I’d still like to continue what we’ve got going on.” _

 

_ The arousal you felt not even an hour ago comes back in full force. He has a way with words, that’s for sure. “What do you mean?” _

 

_ “We fool around, but nothing beyond that. And we tell  _ **_nobody_ ** _. Deal?” _

 

_ You say ‘deal’ a little too quickly, embarrassing yourself. He just smiles. _

  
  


~~~~~

 

You vaguely recall the moments that led you up to now, distracted by Murdoc towering over you and thrusting into your mouth. Filthy words and praises pour out of his mouth, going straight to your head and groin. He’s getting close; by this point you can tell. This has become a weekly ritual for a couple months now. He never returns the favour, but you don’t mind all that much, just happy to be of service.

 

He accidentally hits the back of your throat and you have to try not to gag. He’s not a gentle man, by no means, but he tries his best not to hurt you too badly. You appreciate that. 

 

The hand in your hair tugs tighter, forcing a moan from deep in your throat. The only warning you get this time is the intense way his legs shake before he spills into your mouth. You force yourself to swallow, despite hating the way it feels and tastes. He mentioned something about “swallowing is sexier than spitting”, so you think it was an indirect way to tell you to just get over it. 

 

You pull back and wipe the spit and  _ other liquids  _ off your mouth. He’s looking down at you, petting your hair softly and telling you how good you are. You feel your heart warming.

 

 He zips himself up, thanking you before leaving your room to do whatever. You crawl back up on your bed and chainsmoke before taking a couple of your pain pills. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the weird pain in your heart and sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's getting sad up in here boys
> 
> tumblr: phasez-of-2doc


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